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SANDPEEP 


'Please  excuse  me,  sir.'  I  interrupted,  'she  isn't 'your 
wife  !  '  "     Fruntispiece 


SANDPEEP 

BY 

SARA  E.  BOGGS 


"He  that  writes, 

Or  makes  a  (east,  more  certainly  invites 
His  judges  than  his  friends.     There's  not  a  guest 
But  will  find  something  wanting,  or  ill-drest." 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  MAY  BARTLETT 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 

1906 


Copyright,  1906, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN  &  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved 


Published      April      1906 


8.  J.  PAKKHILL  A  Co.,  BOSTON,  U.  8.  A. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"  '  PLEASE  EXCUSE   ME,  SIR,'   I    INTER- 

RUPTED, '  SHE  ISN'T  YOUR  WIFE  !  '  "  Frontispiece 

"THE  TIDE  WAS  OUT,  AND  GEOFFREY 
WAS  DELIGHTED  WITH  THE  POOLS 
AMONG  THE  ROCKS."  .....  Page  65 


2134436 


'•WELL,   JUST    CAN'T    THE    STRANGEST 

THINGS    HAPPEN  !  "  .....  "          l62 

"•WELL  DONE,  ma  petite  LINA!'"       .         "       238 


SANDPEEP 


CHAPTER  I 

IT  puzzled  me  so  to  know  what  Mr.  Merion 
wrote  about  every  day,  in  the  little  blank- book 
he  always  carried  in  the  breast-pocket  of  his 
coat,  that  I  asked  him  once,  when  I  just  couldn't 
stand  not  to  know  any  longer.  He  very  kindly 
told  me  he  was  keeping  a  diary,  which  is  writing 
down  everything  one  cares  to  remember.  I 
thought  it  a  pretty  good  idea;  but,  as  I  could 
easily  keep  in  my  mind  the  very  few  things  worth 
remembering  that  happened  to  me,  then,  I  did 
not  think  I  should  care  to  keep  a  diary.  But  I 
have  changed  my  mind.  I  bought  a  little  blank- 
book  at  the  Headlands  store,  with  my  blueberry 
money,  and  I  am  going  to  write  in  it  everything 
that  happens.  It  will  seem  like  telling  secrets  to 
a  nice  girl  friend,  who  will  never  breathe  them  to 
a  soul;  and  when  I  am  an  old  woman,  like  Aunt 
Hit,  how  I  shall  enjoy  reading  what  happened  to 
me  when  I  was  young!  Miss  Book  will  help  me 
to  pass  many  long  winter  days  and  evenings, 
when  there  are  no  flesh  and  blood  folks  to  talk  to, 


2  SANDPEEP 

When  I  asked  Mr.  Merion,  who  is  the  kindest 
gentleman  and  very  best  teacher,  what  he  wrote 
about  in  his  diary,  he  let  me  read  a  page  of  it. 
Afterward,  I  had  to  hunt  through  his  dictionary 
for  the  meaning  of  a  good  many  of  the  words, 
before  I  could  clearly  understand  what  I  had 
read.  I  wrote  it  down  then,  and  copy  it  here, 
because  I  think  it  is  worth  remembering. 

"There  is  recompense,  after  all,  in  ill-luck. 
The  lingering  fever  which  threatened  to  incapaci- 
tate me  for  further  brain- work  —  if  it  did  not 
send  me  to  the  grave !  —  brought  into  my  life  a 
most  generous  friend  and  patron ;  and  mere  words 
cannot  express  the  gratitude  I  feel  toward  good 
Dr.  Parke  for  all  that  he  has  done  for  me.  Not 
the  least  of  his  many  kindnesses  was  his  sending 
me  to  this  blessed  haven  of  rest  —  away  down 
here  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  world,  where  the 
health-giving  atmosphere  will,  I  feel  confident, 
restore  my  lost  strength  and  energy.  That  a 
region  so  picturesque,  a  people  so  wholly  ignorant 
of  the  world  and  its  ways,  customs  and  speech  so 
unique,  existed  within  a  two  days'  journey  of 
home,  I  would  not  have  believed  — " 

I  guess  we  longshore  folks  must  be  as  ignorant 
as  Mr.  Merion  wrote  in  his  diary,  for  he,  and  the 
two  or  three  other  persons  from  his  end  of  the 
world  I  have  seen,  are  very  different  from  us. 

"I  have  a  tiny  room-  '  Mr.  Merion  wrote, 
though  I  shouldn't  call  our  spare-chamber  "tiny" 


SANDPEEP  3 

—  "in  a  fisher  cottage,  that  contains  only  one 
other,  —  the  kitchen,  dining-room  and  parlor,  all 
in  one.  Where  my  hostess  and  her  small  niece 
dispose  of  themselves  at  night,  I  cannot  even  sur- 
mise —  " 

If  he  had  ever  climbed  up  to  the  loft  over  the 
kitchen  and  peeped  into  the  closet  where  father 
used  to  bunk,  he  would  have  found  out  where 
I  and  aunt  "disposed"  of  ourselves.  But  he 
wasn't  in  the  least  given  to  peeking  around. 

"  Everything  in  and  about  this  miniature  dwell- 
ing," he  wrote,  "is  sweet  and  clean,  and  smells 
of  the  clover  blooms  in  the  pasture  beyond  my 
window.  The  fare  is  of  the  simplest,  but  just 
what  I  require,  the  doctor  says,  to  build  up 
wasted  tissues.  There's  a  plenty  of  real  milk, 
fresh  eggs  and  fish;  but  no  'bootcher's  meat'  — 
to  quote  my  hostess's  apology  for  the  absence  of 
beef  and  mutton. 

"This  hostess  of  mine  is  a  perfect  example  of 
the  down-east  spinster,  as  I  have  always  imagined 
her  —  angular,  flat-chested,  strident- voiced,  but 
eminently  kind-hearted.  The  youngest  member 
of  our  small  household  is  a  girl  in  her  teens,  one 
of  my  pupils,  and  a  most  persistent  seeker  after 
information  on  all  subjects.  When  her  lips  are 
not  asking  questions,  she  bores  them  into  you 
with  her  dark,  owl-eyes,  which  seem  all  the 
darker  because  of  her  pale  yellow  hair  —  the 
yellow  of  the  inner  husks  of  green  corn.  The 


4  SANDPEEP 

stipend  of  a  teacher  down  here  is  barely  enough 
to  pay  for  my  simple  lodging  and  board;  but  I 
am  devoutly  thankful  for  even  that  little.  Dr. 
Parke  assures  me  that  a  year,  at  most,  of  this 
life  will  surely  eradicate  from  my  system  all  trace 
of  the  fever,  and  that  I  shall  be  well  enough  to 
go  back  to  my  work  in  two  years  — " 

Doctor  Parke  was  right:  Mr.  Merion  was  well 
enough  to  go  back  to  his  teaching  in  college  just 
eighteen  months  from  the  day  he  came  to  the 
Cove,  so  weak  he  could  hardly  walk. 

And  what  his  coming  here  was  to  me!  Truly 
there  was  good  for  me,  too,  in  his  ill  luck,  for  all 
that  I  know  I  owe  to  him,  while  his  board-money 
helped  aunt  when  she  most  needed  it. 

That  he  was  sent  to  us  as  much  for  our  good 
as  his  own,  I  feel  sure,  for  Dr.  Parke  has  been  our 
kind  friend  ever  since  the  time,  years  and  years 
ago,  when  he  cruised  with  father  along  this  coast 
for  a  fortnight's  fishing;  and  no  one  could  have 
been  more  kind  than  he  was,  while  father  lay  sick 
so  long  from  the  dreadful  cold  he  caught  the 
stormy  night  he  saved  the  crew  of  the  vessel  which 
was  wrecked  on  the  ledges. 

Father  might  have  been  living  to-day  if  he  had 
not  gone  out  to  save  those  men.  They  would 
surely  have  drowned  but  for  him,  for  not  another 
of  the  Cove  men  believed  that  a  boat  could  get  to 
the  wreck,  the  sea  was  so  terrible.  But  father 
rowed  out  to  the  ledges  in  his  dory,  and  he  was 


SANDPEEP  5 

just  in  time :  the  vessel  was  pounding  to  pieces  on 
the  rocks,  and  the  poor  souls  on  board  had  given 
up  all  hope. 

It  was  a  brave  deed,  everybody  said.  The  gov- 
ernment at  Washington  sent  father  a  medal,  with 
his  name,  and  what  he  had  done,  on  one  side  — 
as  if  he  needed  anything  to  keep  him  in  mind  of 
that  most  dreadful  hour!  The  owners  of  the 
vessel  sent  him,  what  I  think  a  lot  better,  five 
hundred  of  the  silver  "medals"  which  are  good 
to  swap  for  the  things  a  poor  sick  man  needs 
most.  The  five  hundred  dollars  brought  many 
comforts  for  my  dear  brave  father  the  long 
months  he  lay  ailing;  and  when  he  crossed  the 
river  to  that  other  and  better  world,  I  don't 
know  what  would  have  become  of  me  and  aunt 
if  there  hadn't  been  some  of  the  money  left. 
Poor  aunt  fell  sick  the  very  day  we  laid  father 
to  rest  in  the  little  burying-ground  in  the  pas- 
ture, and  was  clean  out  of  her  mind  for  months. 
Father  had  been  brother  and  son  to  her,  she  had 
cared  for  and  tended  to  him  from  the  day  he 
was  born,  just  as  she  has  taken  care  of  me  all 
my  life;  for  my  mother,  too,  like  father's,  went 
away  to  the  other  world  when  I  came  into  this 
one. 

So  poor  old  aunt  was  sore-distressed,  with  only 
me,  a  useless  little  girl,  left  to  care  for. 

When  the  last  of  the  useful  silver  "medals" 
was  gone,  Mr.  Merion  came  to  board  with  us,  and 


6  SANDPEEP 

while  he  stopped  here,  we  got  along  very  com- 
fortably. When  he  went  back  to  the  city,  times 
were  not  so  good  for  a  while,  but  aunt,  who  is 
truly  wonderful,  though  she  hasn't  any  book- 
learning  at  all,  managed  somehow  to  keep  us 
from  starving  until  I  grew  strong  enough  to  help 
make  a  living.  With  Zemro  to  help  me  some- 
times in  stormy  weather,  like  the  good  friend  and 
neighbor  he  is,  and  with  Louine  to  pester  him  all 
the  time,  too,  I  hadn't  nearly  such  a  hard  time 
as  most  folks  would  believe  a  girl  had,  who  fished 
and  lobstered  for  her  living.  But  I  was  power- 
ful glad  when  'Squire  Higgins  told  me,  last  Sun- 
day after  meeting,  that  I  was  likely  to  get  the 
summer  school  here,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
put  to  good  use  what  Mr.  Merion  had  taught  me. 

Good  luck,  like  troubles,  comes  all  in  a  bunch. 
After  I  had  heard  about  the  school,  along  came 
more  good  news,  a  chance  to  teach  only  one 
scholar,  instead  of  a  whole  schoolful,  and  for 
better  pay,  too!  I  feel  like  shouting  " Halle- 
lujah!" I  am  so  happy. 

I  heard  Mr.  Merion  say  once,  that  something 
was  an  "epoch-marking  event."  Now,  an  event 
which  happened  here  once  may  also  be  called 
" epoch-marking,"  for,  afterward,  we  dated  every- 
thing from  that  day,  as  when  father,  or  aunt,  or 
I  would  say:  "Mack'rel  hain't  been 's  scurse 's 
they  be  now  sence"  —  or  "Them  hens  hain't 
laid  so  well  sence"  —  or  "Blueb'ries  hain't  been 


SANDPEEP  7 

so  plenty  sence  —  that  year  them  two  city  folks 
stopped  to  our  house  all  night." 

It  happened  long  ago,  long  before  Mr.  Merion 
came  to  the  Cove,  when  I  was  a  tiny  ignorant  girl, 
who  believed  that  the  world  ended  out  where  the 
sea  and  the  sky  came  together.  But  I  remember 
as  plainly  as  if  it  had  happened  yesterday ;  I  can 
even  hear  Aunt  Hit's  impatient  words: 

"My  soul 'n'  body!  —  Sandpeep?  Where  be 
you?  There's  them  hens  a-scratchin'  up  the 
garding  fur  dear  life,  'n'  thet  child  nowheres  in 
sight!" 

Of  course  I  wasn't!  I  was  snuggled  com- 
fortably in  the  clover,  behind  the  clump  of  lilacs 
in  the  front  door-yard,  reading  for  the  hundredth 
time  my  fairy  story-book,  wholly  forgetting  that 
I  had  been  sent  to  mind  the  hens.  I  jumped  up 
quickly  enough  when  I  heard  aunt's  voice: 

"Oh,  there  you  be,"  she  called,  "  'n'  jes's  I 
cal'lated;  readin'  your  story-book  again  's  ef 
there  wa'n't  no  sech  destructible  critters  's 
fowels  scratchin'  up  the  garding.  Heave  a  rock 
at  'em,  child ;  'n'  shoo  'em  clean  'crost  the  pastur' 
—  pesky  critters!" 

How  plainly,  after  all  the  years,  I  can  still  hear 
her,  and  see  her  standing  in  the  kitchen  doorway, 
one  hand  shading  her  poor  weak  eyes,  the  other 
holding  the  long-handled  spoon,  with  which  she 
had  been  stirring  the  vegetable  Btew  for  supper. 

Dear  old  aunt!    If  she  is  "angular  and  flat- 


8  SANDPEEP 

chested  and  strident  voiced,"  she  is  as  good  as 
gold,  too,  and  nothing  could  ever  make  her  any- 
thing but  handsome  in  my  eyes,  not  even  the  big 
unsightly  wen  on  her  head,  which  Mr.  Merion 
once  jokingly  said,  "augments  her  bump  of 
benevolence  to  a  prominence  that  would  astound 
the  student  of  craniology." 

Mr.  Merion  always  "book- talked,"  as  Zem 
calls  it,  as  naturally  as  if  he  were  a  dictionary 
dressed  up  in  a  man's  clothes. 

No,  indeed,  Aunt  Hit  can  never  be  anything 
but  beautiful  in  my  eyes,  even  though  her  face, 
hands,  arms,  which  are  bare  to  the  elbows, 
whether  she  toils  or  rests,  are  brown  and  tough- 
looking  as  leather.  They  tell,  as  does  the  out- 
side of  our  old,  unpainted  house,  of  long  years  of 
sun  and  wind,  long  years  of  hard  work  and  use- 
fulness. It's  the  inside  of  folks,  as  well  as  of 
houses,  that  counts  most. 

"There  now,"  called  aunt,  after  I  had  shooed 
the  cackling  hens  from  the  garden  and  was 
hurrying  back  to  the  lilacs,  "don't  you  go  to 
readin'  in  your  story-book  again;  I  want  you 
should  fetch  a  pail  of  water,  'n'  then  see  ef  the 
sloop's  hove  in  sight  yit.  Your  father  hed 
ought  to  be  in  soon." 

I  fetched  a  pail  of  water  from  the  well;  then, 
with  a  longing  look  toward  my  book,  crossed  the 
door-yard  to  the  gate,  swinging  back  and  forth  in 
the  brisk  wind  which  was  sweeping  up  from  the  sea. 


SANDPEEP  9 

The  waves  lapping  the  shingle  were  growing 
heavier  under  the  increasing  wind  and  incoming 
tide,  and  all  signs  agreed  with  father's  bones, 
which  had  told  him  that  morning  that  a  nor'- 
easter  was  on  the  way. 

Even  while  my  eyes  were  searching  the  water 
for  a  sight  of  the  Keren,  almost  the  entire  sky 
became  overcast;  only  a  narrow  strip  of  blue 
above  Western  Mountain  remained  to  tell  of  the 
earlier  day's  clearness.  From  this  blue  strip  the 
down-going  sun  sent  parting  rays  which  cast  long 
shadows  in  the  door-yard,  and  in  the  pasture  of 
lilacs  and  alders  and  wind-blown  firs.  A  cricket 
cheep-cheep-cheeped  under  the  wellstone;  the 
martins,  from  their  clay  nests  under  the  eaves, 
circled  restlessly  above  the  roof;  hoarse  crow- 
calls  from  the  woods  on  the  further  side  of  the 
pasture  mingled  with  the  peculiar  notes  of  the 
pair  of  gulls  that  were  hovering  about  the  chan- 
nel buoy.  • 

Truly,  it  was  an  epoch-marking  event,  for  it 
fastened  in  my  mind  every  single  thing  that  hap- 
pened that  day.  Clinging  to  the  swinging  gate, 
the  wind  flapping  my  hair  across  my  face  and 
twisting  it  about  my  neck,  I  sent  my  eyes  a-search- 
ing  among  the  white-capped  waves  for  the  sloop 
Keren,  and,  after  a  spell,  I  found  her  —  racing 
before  the  gale  like  a  porpoise. 

"The  Keren's  comin'!  "  I  called  to  aunt,  who 
had  come  to  the  door  again. 


io  SANDPEEP 

"You  certing  it's  your  father?"  she  asked, 
straining  her  eyes  in  vain  for  a  sight  of  the  sloop. 

"Yes,  I  be  —  'n'  she's  skimmin'  along  like  a 
porpus,"  I  answered  proudly,  for  I  was,  and  still 
am,  very  proud  of  my  namesake. 

Aunt  looked  at  the  threatening  clouds,  then  said 
before  turning  to  go  back  to  the  stove,  "Don't 
guess  she'll  git  in,  though,  'fore  it  storms." 

Even  as  she  spoke,  large  raindrops  came  pat- 
tering down,  making  round,  black  spots  on  the 
gray  fence  rails  and  the  wellstone.  I  forgot  all 
about  the  sloop  then;  I  dashed  toward  the  lilac 
bush,  caught  up  my  treasured  story-book,  and 
with  it  wrapped  in  my  skirt,  ran  into  the  kitchen, 
just  in  time  to  escape  a  heavy  downpour. 

"Your  father'll  git  wet,"  said  aunt,  when  a 
sudden  gust  sent  the  rain  beating  against  the 
window. 

"'S  ef  he  minded  a  wettin',"  I  returned  with 
scorn.  "Him  thet's  soaked  to  the  skin  'most 
every  day  of  his  life." 

"Salt  water  'n'  rain  hain't  the  same,"  argued 
aunt.  "There  ain't  any  harm  to  sea- water,  but 
rain-water's  got  in  it  rheumatiz  'n'  influendzy, 
'n'  — " 

"Hoptoads  'n'  wiggle  worms,"  I  cut  in,  but 
with  no  intention  of  being  saucy. 

Just  then  the  Keren,  with  swift-dropping  sail 
and  jib,  curved  gracefully  as  a  duck  to  her  an- 
chorage in  the  Cove,  and  shortly  afterward  father, 


SANDPEEP  ii 

covered  with  yellow  oilskins  from  head  to  cow- 
hide boots,  swung  across  the  dooryard  and  into 
the  kitchen. 

"Wall,  sister  Mehitable,  hope  you  hev  rigged 
up  everything  snug  'n'  taut,"  he  said,  good- 
humored  as  always.  "This  is  goin'  to  be  a 
reg'lar  old-fashioned  nor'easter.  It's  blowin'  a 
gale  already  outside.  Lucky  I  kerned  them  hake 
over  to  the  Haven  yistiddy;  shouldn't  admire  to 
hev  to  do  it  this  evenin',  es  I  cal'lated." 

He  hung  his  dripping  rain-coat  and  sou'wester 
in  the  shed;  then  took  off  his  boots  and  woolen 
coat;  and,  in  shirt-sleeves  and  stocking-feet,  was 
ready  for  supper,  and  the  evening  in  the  house. 

Now,  there  is  where  Mr.  Merion  was  so  differ- 
ent from  our  longshore  men.  He  never  would, 
not  even  in  the  hottest  weather,  sit  down  to  a 
meal  without  his  coat  on;  and  he  never  took  it 
off,  nor  his  boots,  until  he  went  into  his  own 
room.  I  wonder  if  all  the  men  at  his  end  of  the 
world  are  like  that  ?  After  supper  aunt  sat  down 
in  her  low  chair  beside  the  stove,  to  add  row  after 
row  to  the  blue  wool  sock  on  her  knitting  needles; 
and  father,  as  always,  busied  himself  with  mend- 
ing broken  fish-lines.  As  he  needed  to  have  the 
candle  close  to  him,  there  wasn't  light  enough  for 
me  to  read,  so  I  climbed  up  to  the  loft,  where 
aunt  and  I  slept  together. 

I  just  loved  the  old  cobwebby  loft;  for,  when 
cuddled  on  the  floor  beside  the  little  window,- 


12  SANDPEEP 

listening  to  the  playing  of  my  wind-harp,  I  could 
forget  everything  else  in  this  world  but  the  wind- 
music,  and  dream  of  the  fairyland  told  about  in 
my  story-book. 

It  was  only  a  single  waxed  thread  stretched 
taut  across  the  sill,  with  the  sash  raised  just 
enough  to  let  in  the  air;  but  the  music  the  wind 
played  on  that  thread  was  perfectly  beautiful, 
and  I  can't  believe  that  the  opera  tunes  Mr. 
Merion  used  to  tell  me  about,  are  as  sweet  as 
those  my  harp  used  to  play  for  me. 

And  that  stormy  evening  I  was  listening  to  the 
wind-music,  dreaming  of  brave  knights  and 
beautiful  princesses;  of  terrible  giants  and  won- 
derful castles.  I  was  far,  far  away  in  fairyland, 
when  a  sudden  gust  hurled  a  loose  brick  from 
the  chimney  to  the  roof.  The  noise  brought  me 
back  to  Bunker's  Cove  and  the  dark  loft,  and  I 
heard  father  say: 

"Thet  was  the  loose  brick  in  the  chimbley  I 
hev  been  cal'latin'  to  fix  all  summer.  Guess  it 
scart  Sandpeep  ef  she  hain't  asleep." 

"Jes'  like's  not  she  wouldn't  hear  it  if  she 
wa'n't  asleep,"  aunt  answered.  "The  child 
never  hears,  or  sees  anything  when  she's  readin' 
in  her  story-book,  orlistenin'  toherharpa-playin'. 
Ever  sence  Dr.  Parke  guv  her  thet  ridic'lus  book, 
'n '  showed  her  how  to  rig  up  a  waxed  thread  in 
the  winder  for  the  wind  to  play  on,  she's  jes'  like 
she  was  bewitched." 


SANDPEEP  13 

Father  laughed,  down  under  his  bushy  beard, 
then  said: 

"Sho  now,  Mehitable,  bewitched?  —  'n'  you  a 
babtized  Christian  woman!  There  hain't  any 
witches  left  sence  great-grandfather  Winter- 
botham  helped  emp'y  the  Britisher's  tea  into  the 
harbor  down  to  Boston!  No,  sister,  Sandpeep 
hain't  bewitched  -  '  his  voice  grew  sad  then  — 
" she's  like  her  mother  was;  Mandy  was  allus 
fond  of  readin'  books,  'n'  singin'  tunes." 

"Yes,"  allowed  aunt,  "Sandpeep  is  pow'ful 
like  Mandy,  only  she  don't  take  to  useful  ways 
like  her  mother." 

"Sandpeep's  only  a  little  gal,  Hitty,"  father 
said;  "she  hain't  much  more'n  a  baby.  Plenty 
of  time  yit  for  her  to  learn  useful  ways." 

"I  wa'n't  no  older  when  I  hed  to  do  all  the 
dish-washin'  'n'  scrubbing  'n'  lug  you  round,  too, 
Peleg  Brenson!  Sandpeep's  eight  year  old." 

Aunt  must  have  dropped  a  stitch,  which  al- 
ways vexes  her  so,  else  she  would  not  have  spoken 
so  crossly  to  father,  who  said  thoughtfully: 

"So  she  is,  so  she  is,  'n'  Mandy's  been  dead 
eight  year.  How  time  doos  fly,  to  be  sure! 
Wall,"  he  added  after  a  minute,  "everybody 
can't  be  born  useful  like  you,  sister.  I  know 
you  hed  a  hard  time  raisin'  me,  'n'  I'm  pow'ful 
'bleeged  to  you  for  it  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  how 
me  'n'  Sandpeep  'd  git  along  'thout  you.  Aunt 
Hits  don't  grow  on  every  bush!" 


I4  SANDPEEP 

"Guess  it's  'bout's  well  they  don't;  shouldn't 
admire  to  see  a  whol'  passel  of  'em  growin'  long 
the  side  of  the  road!"  said  aunt  with  a  laugh, 
pleased  as  she  always  was  when  father  praised 
her.  "Mind,  Peleg,  I  hain't  said's  I  want  Sand- 
peep  should  work  like  I  hed  to;  there  hain't  no 
call  for  her  doin'  it,  long 's  I'm  spared.  But  she 
hed  ought  to  learn  somethin',  'n'  I  don't  believe 
the  child  will  ever  be  good  for  anything  but 
school- teachin'." 

"Wall,-  '  father  spoke  so  slowly,  I  guess  he 
must  have  been  testing  a  spliced  line  —  "school- 
teachin'  hain't  sech  a  no- account  trade  for  a 
woman,  'n'  I  do  say  thet  I'd  ruther  Sandpeep'd 
be  a  school-teacher  'n  - 

A  loud  "Halloo!"  outside  the  house  interrupted 
father,  and  made  him  exclaim  in  surprise: 

"Now  who  kin  thet  ejit  be,  a-bellerin'  like  a 
bull-calf  out  there,  'stid  of  comin'  right  in  out  of 
the  rain,  I  want  to  know!" 

Always  curious  to  see  and  hear  everything,  I 
lay  down  on  the  floor,  and  with  my  eye  at  a  knot- 
hole I  saw  father  open  the  door  and,  with  the 
candle  held  above  his  head,  peer  into  the  rainy 
darkness. 

"Thanks,  we  can  see  our  way  now,"  called  the 
voice  which  had  hallooed,  and.  I  noticed  how 
different  it  was  from  the  voices  I  was  used  to 
hearing.  A  few  moments  afterward  a  gentleman 
and  a  young  lady  ran  into  the  kitchen. 


SANDPEEP  15 

I  could  see  them  plainly  and  for  a  minute  I 
really  believed  I  was  looking  down  at  the  valiant 
Prince  Avenal,  and  the  beauteous  Princess  Alda- 
bella,  whom  the  prince  had  rescued  from  the 
giant's  castle  —  they  were  so  different  from  us 
longshore  folks. 

Not  even  their  soaking  wet  clothes  made  them 
unbeautiful.  I  thought  the  lady's  blue  cloth 
dress  and  little  white  cap,  below  which  rain-drops 
sparkled  in  her  coal-black  hair,  perfectly  elegant; 
while  the  gentleman's  clothes  didn't  look  as  if 
they  had  been  made  for  some  other  man  —  as 
father's  always  did,  and  Zemro's  do  now. 

The  lady  wasn't  nearly  so  tall  as  the  gentle- 
man but  she  looked  older,  for  he  hadn't  any 
beard,  not  even  the  little  shadow  which  shows 
sometimes  under  a  grown-up  boy's  nose;  and 
while  her  eyes,  coal-black  like  her  hair,  said 
plainly  as  words:  "What  sort  of  strange  place 
is  this  we  have  dropped  into?"  his,  which  were 
blue,  with  the  brows  above  them  drawn  close 
together,  told  as  plainly  that  he  was  worried,  or 
vexed,  or  both. 

"Wall,"  exclaimed  father  in  surprise,  which 
wasn't  to  be  wondered  at,  seeing  that  such  vis- 
itors had  never  before  called,  not  even  in  the  day- 
time in  fair  weather.  "Whar  do  you  hail  from, 
I  want  to  know,  'n'  whar  be  you  bound  ? " 

"We  came  from  South  Haven,"  the  gentleman 
answered,  very  shortly. 


16  SANDPEEP 

"Come  from  South  Haven?  Then  I  cal'late 
you  belong  to  that  dandy  little  vessil  I  see  makin' 
fur  the  Haven  this  mornin'?" 

"  We  came  to  South  Haven  on  the  yacht 
Oceana,"  explained  our  visitor,  but  his  manner 
was  no  more  encouraging  than  before. 

"Be  you  her  capting?"  father  asked  again,  not 
a  bit  put  out  by  the  short  answers. 

"No." 

"You  must  be  soakin'  wet?" 

Instead  of  answering,  the  gentleman  asked  the 
lady  if  she  was  very  wet. 

"Yes,  and  very  cold  —  chilly,"  she  answered, 
and  she  moved  nearer  to  the  stove. 

"I  wonder  you  wa'n't  drownded  ef  you  rowed 
over  from  the  Haven  in  this  gale,"  father  allowed. 
"Ef  you  are  cold,  ma'am,  we'll  het  up  the  stove, 
'n'  warm  you."  He  hurried  out  to  the  shed  for 
wood  and  kindling,  and  aunt,  who  had  been  star- 
ing wonderingly  at  the  strangers,  began  to  fuss 
about  the  stove. 

"Awfully  sorry  to  give  you  so  much  trouble," 
said  the  gentleman,  when  father  came  from  the 
shed  with  an  armful  of  birch  sticks. 

"Sho!  'tain't  a  mite  of  trouble,  capting,"  an- 
swered father  cheerfully.  "We  longshore  folks 
don't  mind  a  little  extry  work  like  this.  Mehitable, 
hevn't  you  got  some  duds  the  lady  could  put  on 
'till  her'n  are  dry  ?  Guess  the  capting  kin  manage 
to  get  along  with  my  meetin'  close  a  spell." 


SANDPEEP  17 

"Oh,  thanks,"  hastily  interrupted  the  "cap- 
ting,"  "you  are  very  kind,  really,  but  I  couldn't 
think  of  troubling  you." 

But  my  dear,  hospitable  father  was  not  to  be 
hindered  from  what  he  believed  to  be  his  duty. 
He  fetched  his  Sunday  coat  from  the  spare-room 
closet:  "Here,  put  this  on,  capting;  you  don't 
want  to  ketch  plural-pneumony,  which  you're 
like  to  do  ef  you  set  around  in  wet  close.  You 
may  wear  this  coat  V  welcome.  I  hain't  the 
least  mite  scart  of  you're  bustin'  the  seams!" 

The  stranger  didn't  laugh  at  this  joking.  He 
took  off  his  coat,  without  word  or  smile,  and  put 
on  father's,  which  hung  in  great  folds  from  his 
shoulders.  Though  he  was  tall  as  father,  he 
wasn't  as  broad;  but  his  arms  were  longer  and 
the  edge  of  the  sleeves  didn't  come  near  his  cuffs. 
I  guess  if  he  had  seen  himself  in  the  looking-glass, 
he  would  have  smiled,  too,  which  the  lady  did  for 
a  second.  Clothes  help  a  lot  to  make  a  body 
look  nice. 

Aunt  Hit,  seeing  how  father  had  managed, 
said  to  the  lady:  "Hedn't  you  ought  to  change 
your  close,  too,  ma'am?  You're  like  to  ketch 
your  death  settin'  'round  in  your  wet  frock  'n' 
petticuts." 

"I  thank  you.  You  are  very  kind,  madam," 
answered  the  lady,  not  more  inclined  to  change 
her  pretty  frock  for  one  of  aunt's  than  her  com- 
panion had  been  to  wear  father's  Sunday  coat  — 


18  SANDPEEP 

and  I  don't  wonder!  But  her  excuse  was:  "We 
have  not  the  time  to  wait  here  until  my  garments 
would  dry.  We  shall  depart  as  soon  as  the  rain 
stops." 

"You  will  have  plenty  of  time,  ma'am,  an'  to 
spare,"  allowed  father.  "A  nor'easter  like  this 
sometimes  lasts  two  or  three  days." 

"Oh!"  almost  screamed  the  lady,  and  the 
gentleman  said  a  swear  word ;  at  least,  it  sounded 
like  it. 

"Yes,  sir,  'n'  ma'am,"  father  assured  them. 
Then,  seeing  how  really  distressed  they  looked, 
he  added:  "But  this  storm  may  let  up  to'rd 
mornin'  ef  the  wind  hauls  'round  to'rd  the  nor'- 
west  by  midnight.  But,"  and  he  said  this  with 
decision,  "fair  weather  'r  foul,  ma'am,  'n'  cap- 
ting,  you  will  hev  to  make  up  your  minds  to  bide 
here  till  mornin';  for,  even  ef  it  should  stop 
rainin'  before  midnight,  which  there  ain't  any 
signs  of  it  doin'  now,  the  sea  would  be  too  rough 
to  row  back  to  your  vessil.  /  shouldn't  admire 
to  take  a  small  boat  out  in  such  a  sea,  capting, 
'n'  I  cal'late  I  am  about 's  well  acquainted  along 
this  here  coast 's  you  be  —  seein'  es  I  hev  been  a 
croosin'  along  here  for  thirty  year  'n'  more. 
Come  to  think  of  it,"  he  added,  with  sudden 
anxiety,  "did  you  draw  your  dory  well  up  onto 
the  beach  when  you  kem  ashore?" 

"The  sailors  who  rowed  us  over  from  the 
yacht  took  the  boat  back,"  answered  the  captain. 


SANDPEEP  19 

"An'  where'd  they  land  you?"  asked  father, 
wondering. 

"On  a  rocky  point  not  far  from  here  — " 

"Bulger's  P'int,"  interrupted  father,  still  more 
surprised.  "Ef  you  ree'ly  landed  on  the  p'int, 
which  I  kin  scursely  believe,  for  it's  dangerous 
landin'  there  when  the  sea's  calm,  whar  in  the 
name  of  Dan'l  Webster  hev  you  been  a-croosin' 
'round  all  this  time?" 

"Being  strangers  here,"  answered  the  captain, 
shortly,  and  the  wrinkle  between  his  eyebrows 
got  deeper,  "we  did  not  know  just  where  to 
direct  our  steps,  until  we  caught  sight  of  the 
lighted  window  of  this  house." 

"Hm — "  father  thought  a  moment  before  he 
went  on:  "Wall,  bein'  here,  you  may  as  well  make 
up  your  minds  to  stop  till  to-morrow,  'n'  — " 

"But—"  in  great  haste,  and  vexed,  the  cap- 
tain was  beginning,  when  father  interrupted  him, 
jokingly. 

"'Tain't  a  mite  of  use  buttin',  es  the  stunwall 
remarked  to  the  billygoat;  you  will  jis'  hev  to 
bide  here  'till  this  storm's  over.  My  house  ain't 
quite  es  big  'n'  fine  's  the  Exchange  Hotel  to  the 
Headlands,  but  I  cal'late  we  kin  rig  up  some  sort 
of  bunk  for  you  'n'  the  lady  —  your  wife,  I 
cal'late?"  looking  toward  the  stove,  where  the 
lady  was  shivering  with  cold. 

"No,  the  lady  is  not  my  wife,"  answered  the 
gentleman,  adding  after  he  had  looked  around 


20  SANDPEEP 

the  kitchen,  "I  am  afraid  we  shall  put  you  to  a 
great  deal  of  inconvenience." 

"You  needn't  be  afraid  you'll  crowd  us,  cap- 
ting,"  father  told  him.  "We  hev  allus  got  room 
for  a  stormstaid  traveller  Such  accommodations 
's  we  hev  to  offer,  you're  welcome  to." 

Then  the  captain  —  I  am  not  at  all  sure  he 
was  a  sea-faring  man  —  said  something  to  the 
lady  in  a  language  I  had  never  heard  before. 
She  looked  very  cross,  then  got  up  suddenly,  and 
said  to  aunt: 

"Madam,  if  you  will  be  good  enough  to  show 
me  where  I  can  spend  the  night,  I  will  go  to  bed." 

When  "madam"  had  taken  her  into  the  spare- 
chamber,  father  drew  a  chair  in  front  of  the 
stove,  sat  down,  tilted  back,  and  rested  his 
stocking-feet  on  the  stove  shelf. 

"May  as  well  set  down,  too,  capting,"  he  said 
to  the  gentleman,  who  was  standing  beside  the 
stove,  looking  as  if  he  did  not  know  what  to  do. 

I  was  pretty  tired  and  stiff  with  lying  on  the 
rough  board  floor,  but  I  would  have  endured  any 
discomfort  rather  than  have  missed  what  was 
going  on  in  the  kitchen.  I  might  have  gone  to 
bed,  and  been  comfortable,  for  I  could  have 
heard  every  word  through  the  wide  cracks  be- 
tween the  boards;  but  I  wanted  to  see,  as  well. 
So  I  lay  still  as  a  mouse,  and  by  and  by  father 
said: 

"Pow'ful  stormy  eveninM" 


SANDPEEP  21 

I  guess  the  stranger  didn't  think  he  needed  to 
answer,  with  the  howling  gale  and  beating  rain 
to  speak  for  him  He  sat  straight  and  stiff  as  a 
poker,  as  if  he  disdained  trying  to  make  himself 
more  comfortable  by  tilting  back  his  chair  like 
father. 

"Guess  this  night' 11  try  the  endurin'  power  of 
many  a  vessil." 

No  reply. 

"You  certingly  was  lucky,  capting,  to  come 
ashore  when  you  did;  later,  you'd  like  t'  swamp 
your  boat  'n'  mebbe  drown'd  yourself  'n'  the 
lady,  too.  Your  sister,  I  cal'late?" 

"No." 

"You  don't  favor  each  other,  either,  come  to 
look  square  at  you.  You're  sandy  complected, 
'n'  she's  brownette,  es  they  call  it." 

Father  rocked  backward  and  forward  several 
times.  "South  Haven's  a  snug  'n'  safe  harbor  in 
a  nor'east  gale,"  he  remarked.  "Your  skipper's 
well  enough  acquainted  with  this  part  of  the 
coast  to  know  that,  I  cal'late?" 

"Yes." 

Mr.  Merion  would  have  called  the  stranger's 
answers  "monosyllabic."  They  were  not  cal- 
culated to  keep  up  a  conversation;  but  father 
didn't  mind  doing  the  talking  for  two.  He 
took  a  stick  of  kindling  from  the  wood-box, 
and  whittled  it  to  tiny  shavings  before  he 
spoke  again. 


22  SANDPEEP 

"Been  croosin'  'round  these  parts  long,  cap- 
ting?" 

"No." 

"Much  of  a  crew  aboard  your  vessil?" 

Either  the  captain  had  not  heard  this  question 
or  else  he  didn't  know  how  many  sailors  there 
were  on  board;  he  didn't  answer. 

"Was  you  caFlatin'  to  stop  some  time  to  the 
Haven?" 

The  stranger  shook  his  head. 

Father  stopped  clicking  the  knife-blade  by 
opening  and  closing  it,  put  the  knife  into  his 
pocket,  clasped  his  hands  back  of  his  head,  and 
with  his  chair  tilted  as  far  back  as  was  safe, 
watched  the  firelight  in  the  stove.  Now  and  then 
a  furious  gust  would  hurl  down  the  flue,  and  send 
long  tongues  of  blue  and  yellow  flame  from  be- 
tween the  bars  of  the  grate,  like  fiery  serpents. 
After  what  seemed  a  long  time,  aunt  came  from 
the  spare-chamber  with  the  lady's  wet  skirts  over 
her  arm.  She  hung  them  on  the  cord  stretched 
along  the  chimney  behind  the  stove,  then  said  to 
the  stranger: 

"The  lady  says  she  don't  want  anything  to 
eat.  Mebbe  you  would  like  a  cup  of  tea,  capting, 
or  somethin'?" 

"Thanks,  no!  We  had  luncheon  before  we 
left  the  yacht." 

Aunt  stood  a  minute,  as  if  she  did  not 
know  exactly  what  to  do  next,  and  then  said 


SANDPEEP  23 

to    father    in    a    low    tone:     "Shell    you    want 
breakfast's  airly 's  usual,  Peleg?" 

"I  d'no',  'm  sure,"  looking  at  the  stranger. 
"Ef  the  mornin's  clear,  capting,  shell  you  want 
to  make  an  airly  start?" 

"As  early  as  will  be  necessary  to  catch  the 
steamer  at  the  Headlands — " 

"The  Lewiston?"  interrupted  father,  as  if  he 
believed  he  had  not  understood. 

"Yes;  she  touches  at  the  Headlands  to- 
morrow, doesn't  she?" 

"She  doos.  Be  you  goin'  to  Boston  on  the 
steamboat?" 

"  Yes.  I  was  told  at  South  Haven  that  I  should 
find  a  man  near  the  point  where  we  landed  who 
would  take  us  in  a  sailboat  to  the  Headlands." 

"Did  you  cal'late  to  sail  to  the  Headlands 
this  evenin' ? "  asked  father,  his  voice  express- 
ing what  he  thought  of  the  stranger's  ignorance. 

"It  had  not  begun  to  rain  when  we  left  the 
yacht,"  was  the  curt  reply.  "Have  you  got  a 
sailboat?" 

"I  hev." 

"Then  I  dare  say  you  can  take  us  to  the 
Headlands  if  it  clears  by  morning?" 

"Dessay  I  could  —  ef  there's  a  breeze." 

"In  case  there  should  not  be  a  breeze,  have 
you  a  vehicle  of  any  sort?  We  must  get  to  the 
Headlands  in  time  for  the  steamer."  He  said 
this  with  decision. 


24  SANDPEEP 

"7  hain't  got  a  vehicle,  but  I  guess  I  could  git 
the  loan  of  'Squire  Higgins's  jigger  'n'  yoke  of 
steers,  though  you  could  walk  to  the  Head- 
lands bout's  quick's  them  steers 'd  haul  you. 
Howsomedever,"  he  made  haste  to  add,  noting 
the  stranger's  vexed  look,  "ef  you  are  sot  on 
gittin'  to  the  Headlands  for  the  Lewiston,  I  d'no' 
but  me  'n'  Charles  Henry  Judson  might  kerry 
you- 

" Carry  us?"  interrupted  the  stranger,  looking 
puzzled. 

"  Certing  —  kerry  you  in  my  dory.  Guess  me 
'n'  Charles  Henry,  'n'  two  pairs  of  oars  kin  man- 
age to  put  you  'n'  the  lady  on  board  the  Lewiston 
—  ef  there's  no  sailin'  breeze." 

"Pardon  me,  I  did  not  understand,"  said  the 
stranger;  and  a  smile  for  the  first  time  showed 
on  his  lips.  It  was  like  a  sudden  ray  of  sun- 
light on  the  sea  on  a  gray  day. 

"Sail,  or  row,  you  will  hev  to  make  an  airly 
start,"  allowed  father. 

"We  can  be  ready  any  hour  you  think  neces- 
sary. And  you  shall  be  well  paid  for  your 
trouble." 

"Thet's  all  right,  capting  —  guess  we  sha'n't 
quarrel  about  the  money  part."  Then  to  aunt: 
"Ef  it's  a  clear,  or  clearin',  mornin',  sister, 
you'd  better  hev  breakfast  ready  by  five  o'clock. 
Thet  ain't  too  airly  fur  you  to  git  up,  is  it, 
capting?" 


SANDPEEP  25 

"Any  hour  you  name,  only  be  sure  to  let  it  be 
early  enough  for  us  to  catch  the  steamer." 

"All  right,  capting!  ef  you  'n'  your  lady  hain't 
passengers  aboard  the  Lewiston  to-morrow,  you 
kin  lay  it  to  the  weather,  'n'  Providence,  'n'  not 
to  Peleg  Brenson,  e-squire!" 

When  aunt  came  up  to  the  loft  —  I  know  how 
she  must  have  hated  to  climb  the  ladder,  with  the 
strange  gentleman  sitting  in  the  kitchen,  but  he 
never  once  looked  toward  her  —  I  looked  up 
from  the  knot-hole  to  ask: 

"Who  be  them  folks,  aunt?" 

"I  d'no',  'm  sure;  never  see  'em  afore.  Act 
like  they  was  runnin'  away." 

"Who  be  they  runnin'  away  from?" 

"Their  folks,  to  be  sure." 

"'N'  why  be  they  runnin'  away?" 

"To  git  married,  child." 

"Married?  I  shouldn't  think  that  han'some 
lady  'd  want  to  marry  such  a  cross-looking  gen- 
tleman." 

"May  be  better  'n  he  looks,  Sandpeep;  you 
can't  allus  tell  from  a  toad's  looks  how  fur  he 
kin  jump.  You  better  come  along  to  your  bed. 
You'll  git  a  stiff  neck  peekin'  through  thet  hole." 

What  mattered  a  stiff  neck  when  there  was  so 
much  to  see  and  hear  ?  I  laid  down  again  on  the 
floor  with  my  eye  to  the  knot-hole. 

For  a  long  time  father  and  his  guest  sat  silent, 
and  I  had  fallen  into  a  doze,  when  a  sudden  noise 


26  SANDPEEP 

in  the  kitchen  made  me  bright  awake  again. 
Father  had  brought  the  front  legs  of  his  chair  to 
the  floor  with  a  thump,  and  was  standing  upright, 
stretching  himself,  and  yawning. 

"Ef  you  don't  mind  settin'  here  by  yourself, 
capting,"  he  said,  "I'll  turn  in,  es  I  shell 
hev  to  be  up  'fore  daylight,  to  git  the  sloop, 
or  the  dory  —  whichever  it's  to  be  —  ready  for 
passengers." 

"Yes  —  no  —  certainly — "  I  think  the  cap- 
tain must  have  been  dozing  too.  "Pray  don't 
stay  up  on  my  account.  If  you  don't  object,  I 
will  sit  here  a  little  longer." 

"I  hain't  no  objections  to  your  settin'  there  all 
night  ef  you're  a  mind  to,  capting.  I'll  fetch 
you  some  kiver,  'n'  a  piller,  'n'  when  you  git 
tiyed  settin'  up,  you  kin  lay  down  on  this  here 
settle.  Guess  you  kin  manage  to  rest  some." 

"What  the  deuce  is  that  noise?"  suddenly  in- 
terrupted the  stranger,  when  the  gust  of  wind, 
which  flung  a  shower  of  snapping  sparks  from 
the  stove,  played  a  long,  sweet  note  on  my  harp. 
"I  have  heard  it  several  times." 

"Ha-ha,"  chuckled  father.  "Thet's  Sand- 
peep's  harp.  Sandpeep's  my  little  gal,  'n'  her 
harp's  a  thread  stretched  acrost  the  sill  of  the  loft 
winder,  fur  the  wind  to  play  on." 

He  went  into  his  little  closet-room,  brought  the 
quilt  and  pillow  from  his  own  bed,  and  arranged 
them  on  the  settle. 


SANDPEEP  27 

"There,  capting  —  now,  I'll  bid  you  a  good- 
night." 

"  Good-night,  and  thank  you  very  much." 

Believing  that  nothing  more  worth  seeing  and 
hearing  would  happen,  I  was  rising  from  the 
floor,  when  a  stir  below  caused  me  to  drop 
quickly  back  to  the  knot-hole.  The  door  of  the 
spare-chamber  was  open,  and  the  lady,  with 
aunt's  blue  calico  meeting  frock  on  —  she  looked 
as  funny  in  it  as  the  gentleman  did  in  father's 
coat  —  was  crossing  the  floor. 

"I  thought  you  had  gone  to  bed,"  said  the 
gentleman,  looking  up  at  her,  when  she  laid  her 
hand  on  his  shoulder.  "Yes,  — "  answering  her 
whispered  question,  "they  have  all  gone.  You, 
too,  ought  to  be  resting,  for  we  shall  have  to  be 
up  very  early."  She  spoke  again  in  a  tone  I  could 
not  hear. 

"Yes,  it  is,"  he  answered,  "but  there  is  nothing 
else  we  can  do  —  I  can't  control  the  tempest! 
Could  I  have  foreseen  the  result  of  our  mad 
frolic,  as  you  rightly  term  it,  we  certainly  would 
not  be  here.  You  cannot  blame  me  for  the  mis- 
take those  stupid  sailors  made,  landing  us  at  the 
wrong  place?  I  was  quite  as  anxious  as  you 
were  to  have  the  matter  settled  at  once." 

Again  she  spoke,  and,  as  was  very  plain,  with 
great  impatience. 

"Angela!"  —  he  was  angry,  too  —  "You  shall 
not  accuse  me  of  such  a  contemptible  trick! 


28  SANDPEEP 

You  don't  really  believe  I  would  deceive  you  so 
brutally!  But  don't  let  us  quarrel;  go,  and  try 
to  sleep!  Believe  me,  I  will  do  what  I  can  to  get 
you  safely  and  honorably  out  of  this  mess." 
"No,"  answering  another  question,  "we  are  not 
going  back  in  the  yacht  with  the  rest  —  Heaven 
forbid!  We  will  travel  back  in  the  steamer." 

I  could  see  that  the  lady  was  greatly  excited. 
She  was  very  pale;  the  hands  she  kept  clasping 
and  unclasping  trembled  so  that  her  rings 
sparkled  and  glistened  like  the  stars  on  a  frosty 
night. 

"No  —  no!"  answered  the  gentleman  again, 
and  he  spoke  as  if  his  patience  had  well-nigh 
given  out.  "Why  do  you  ask  such  an  absurd 
question  ?  I  do  not  regret  my  promise  —  only 
what  led  to  it.  Believe  me,  Angela,"  his  voice 
grew  kinder,  but  he  did  not  take  the  hand  half 
extended  toward  him  —  maybe  he  didn't  see  it 
—  "I  shall  do  what  is  best  for  you.  Now,  go  to 
bed,  and  try  to  sleep  —  there  is  a  bed  in  that 
room,  I  suppose?" 

She  nodded  yes,  waited  a  minute  as  if  to  speak 
again,  then  turned  suddenly  as  if  really  vexed, 
and  went  back  into  the  spare-chamber. 

I  got  up  from  the  knot-hole,  and,  after  closing 
the  window  so  that  the  "noise"  of  my  harp 
should  not  disturb  the  captain  again,  undressed 
and  crept  into  bed.  Sometime  in  the  middle  of 
the  night  I  awoke  from  a  dream  so  real  that, 


SANDPEEP  29 

even  after  my  eyes  were  wide  open,  I  thought  I 
still  saw  Prince  Avenal  riding  on  his  snow-white 
charger  down  a  road  that  sparkled  and  glittered 
in  a  shower  of  diamonds.  I  sat  straight  up  in 
bed,  heedless  that  I  was  mussing  the  covers  and 
might  waken  Aunt  Hit,  and  stared  wonderingly 
at  the  silvery  streak  of  light  which  slanted  up 
from  the  floor  to  the  rafter  over  my  head. 

The  prince  and  the  diamond  shower  had  van- 
ished, but  the  streak  of  light  puzzled  me  until  I 
realized  that  it  came  through  the  knot-hole  from 
the  kitchen.  Then,  remembering  our  visitors,  I 
slipped  softly  from  the  bed,  and  looked  through 
the  knot-hole.  The  gentleman  was  still  sitting 
by  the  stove,  just  as  when  I  had  gone  to  bed. 
His  arms  were  folded.  He  looked  as  if  he  were 
asleep,  only  that  his  eyes  were  wide  open. 

While  I  was  looking,  he  got  up  suddenly,  pressed 
his  hands  hard  against  his  forehead,  and  said  in  a 
whisper  that  sounded  as  if  he  were  choking: 

"Oh  —  father!  father!  —  will  you  ever  forgive 
me?"  Then  he  dropped  his  arms  to  his  sides 
and  walked  softly  to  the  window,  where  he  rested 
his  head  against  the  pane. 

He  looked  so  sore-distressed,  I  was  sorry  for 
him,  and  wondered  what  he  had  done  to  make 
him  afraid  his  father  would  not  forgive  him.  I 
watched  him  for  a  long  while,  then  shivering 
with  cold  and  hardly  able  to  keep  my  eyes  open, 
I  crept  back  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  II 

r  i  *HE  clatter  of  dishes  in  the  kitchen  woke  me 
at  an  early  hour.    The  wind,  as  father  had 
allowed  it  might,  had  hauled  'round  to  the 
nor'west  and  only  out  in  the  east  heavy  clouds 
were  still  heaped  high.     Clouds  in  the  east  when 
a  west  or  a  nor'west  wind  is  blowing,  don't  hin- 
der folks  from  starting  on  a  journey,  and  I  did 
not  waste  time  putting  on  my  clothes. 

"Where  be  they?"  I  asked  aunt,  before  I  was 
quite  down  the  ladder. 

"He's  somewheres  out-doors,"  she  answered, 
slipping  meal-coated  slices  of  codfish  into  the 
sputtering  spider,  "'n'  she  hain't  up  yit,  I  guess. 
Your  father  told  me  not  to  wake  her  till  breakfast 
was  ready,  es  there's  plenty  of  wind  to  kerry  'em 
to  the  Headlands  ef  they  don't  start  till  six." 

I  washed  my  face  and  combed  my  hair  as 
quickly  as  I  had  put  on  my  clothes;  then  I  ran 
down  to  the  shore,  to  ask  questions  of  father; 
but  he  was  out  in  the  sloop  getting  her  ready  for 
his  passengers.  The  wind  had  beaten  down  the 
waves,  and  with  my  skirts  held  above  my  knees, 
I  waded  into  the  water,  singing  at  the  very  top 
of  my  voice  for  the  joy  of  living  on  such  a  beauti- 
ful morning  in  such  a  beautiful  world. 

30 


SANDPEEP  31 

"That  is  a  very  pretty  song  you're  singing, 
little  maid." 

Good  king!  but  wasn't  I  scared  to  hear  the 
strange  gentleman's  voice  and  to  see  him  stand- 
ing on  the  shingle,  looking  straight  at  me. 

"Where  did  you  learn  that  pretty  song?"  he 
asked,  taking  the  cigarette  from  his  lips  to  flick 
the  ashes  from  the  end.  As  he  did  so,  I  saw  a 
greenish-yellow  gleam  like  the  light  of  a  firefly  in 
the  ring  on  his  little  finger. 

"I  d'no',"  I  answered,  dreadfully  shy;  "I  jes' 
ketched  it  —  I  guess." 

"  'Jes'  ketched  it,'  did  you?"  smiling,  and 
looking  so  different  from  the  cross  gentleman  of 
the  evening  before.  "You  'ketch'  everything 
down  here  —  from  fish  to  melodies,  don't 
you?" 

This  was  the  sort  of  talk  I  didn't  understand, 
so  I  made  no  reply,  and  he  turned  and  walked 
down  the  shore,  against  the  wind,  a  gray 
streamer  of  tobacco  smoke  trailing  back  over 
his  shoulder. 

I  looked  after  him,  wondering  if  he  would  look 
like  the  valiant  Prince  Avenal  if  he  had  on  a 
velvet  cloak  and  plumed  hat,  and  was  riding  on  a 
snow-white  charger,  and  I  had  just  decided  that 
he  wouldn't,  when  he  turned  and  came  back. 

The  ten  toes  on  my  feet  under  the  water 
grubbed  themselves  into  the  sand  —  that  much  of 
me,  anyhow,  should  hide  from  the  keen  gray-blue 


32  SANDPEEP 

eyes  looking  straight  at  me  again.  He  took  from 
the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat  a  note-book  and 
pencil,  and  said: 

"Stand  perfectly  still  —  just  as  you  are  —  for  a 
few  minutes,  little  girl." 

Of  course  I  stood  still!  I  could  not  have  dis- 
obeyed the  commanding  tone  if  I  had  wanted  to. 
I  watched  his  hand  with  the  firefly  ring  move 
swiftly  over  the  page  of  the  open  book. 

"A  most  unusual  combination,"  he  mumbled, 
with  the  cigarette  at  the  corner  of  his  lips,  look- 
ing at  me  through  half-closed  eyes  and  head 
turned  to  one  side.  "A  most  unusual  combi- 
nation—  bronze-hued  eyes;  lashes  and  brows 
almost  black;  hair,  naples-yellow  —  wish  I  had 
colors  here!  Can  you  guess,  you  little  Yankee," 
he  said  aloud,  "what  I  am  doing?" 

I  shook  my  head. 

"I  am  drawing  the  picture  of  a  mermaid." 

"There  hain't  any  really  mermaids,  father 
says,"  I  assured  him. 

"Oh,  but  there  are.  /  know  better  than 
father."  This  was  spoken  with  such  decision, 
that,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  a  doubt  of 
father  crept  into  my  mind.  "Just  you  wait  a 
minute,  and  I'll  show  you  a  real  mermaid. 
Couldn't  you  sing  that  pretty  song  again  while 
you  are  waiting?" 

Indeed,  I  couldn't!  I  could  just  drop  my 
head  and  grub  my  toes  into  the  sand. 


SANDPEEP  33 

"  Oh,  come,  my  dear  —  how  can  I  draw  your 
picture  if  you  hide  your  face  like  that?"  he  said 
seriously.  "Look  at  me  —  so  —  I  want  my  mer- 
maid to  have  a  face." 

"I  hain't  no  mermaid,"  I  told  him,  put  out 
that  he  should  think  so. 

"But  I  believe  you  are.  I  believe  you  have 
your  fish-tail  hidden  under  the  water,  and  that 
you  will  swim  away  out  to  sea  the  minute  I  turn 
my  back!" 

I  looked  at  him  wonderingly.  I  could  hardly 
believe  him  to  be  the  same  cross,  sore-distressed 
gentleman  of  the  night  before.  He  was  like  a 
nice  boy,  smiling  and  teasing,  and  when  I  lifted 
first  one  foot,  then  the  other,  from  the  water,  and 
asked:  "Be  them  a  tail?"  his  hearty  laugh  made 
me  forget  my  shyness,  and  I  laughed  with  him. 

"No,  you  funny  midget,  only  two  pretty  little 
brown  feet!  But  I  shall  always  believe  you  are  a 
really  mermaid.  Now  come  and  take  a  look  at 
your  likeness." 

He  didn't  need  to  ask  me  a  second  time.  I 
waded  quickly  out  of  the  water  and,  standing  by 
his  side,  looked  at  the  picture  he  had  drawn,  — 
a  little  girl  with  big  eyes  and  touseled  hair,  with 
curved  marks  around  her  bare  knees  for  waves. 

"Well?  How  do  you  like  it?"  he  asked,  smil- 
ing down  at  me. 

Disappointment  made  me  forget  my  bashful- 
ness.  I  answered: 


34  SANDPEEP 

"Tain't  handsome." 

"Not  handsome?"  He  laughed,  closed  the 
book,  and  put  it  into  his  pocket.  "You  minia- 
ture woman!  Even  you  are  cursed  with  the 
vanity  of  your  sex.  Here,"  -  he  took  a  quarter 
from  his  pocket  and  held  it  toward  me,  —  "buy 
some  candy,  and  heal  your  wounded  vanity." 

Only  half  understanding,  and  because  I  had 
never  before  been  offered  a  gift  of  money,  I  made 
no  move  to  take  the  quarter. 

"Take  it,"  he  said,  and  pressed  it  into  my 
hand.  "You  like  candy,  don't  you?" 

Yes,  indeed,  I  liked  candy;  but  there  was 
something  I  wanted  a  great  deal  more;  so  I 
asked  him,  looking  from  the  quarter  in  my 
hand  up  into  his  smiling  eyes,  "Will  this  buy 
a  fiddlestring  ?  " 

"A  fiddlestring?"  -I  could  see  that  he  was 
surprised  —  "I  dare  say;  but  why  do  you  want 
to  buy  a  fiddlestring?  Do  you  play  the  fiddle?" 

I  remembered  what  he  had  said  about  my  harp 
and  did  not  answer. 

"Well,  never  mind,  if  you  don't  care  to  tell 
me,"  he  said  then,  and  laid  a  second  quarter  on 
the  first.  :<  There,  now  you  surely  have  enough 
to  buy  a  fiddlestring." 

He  did  not  hear  me  say  "Thank  you,"  for  he 
had  turned  and  walked  quickly  toward  the  house. 
The  young  lady  had  come  to  the  door  to  look  for 
him. 


SANDPEEP  35 

While  they  were  eating  breakfast,  I  gathered 
some  flowers,  and  handed  them  to  the  lady  at 
the  gate  when  they  were  leaving. 

"Flowers  for  me!"  she  said,  and  looked 
pleased.  "You  give  me  flowers  to-day?  I  thank 
you  many,  many  times.  You  bring  me  good 
luck  with  your  flowers,  little  gold-locks." 

"Beautiful  hair,  hasn't  she?"  remarked  the 
gentleman,  as  she  stooped  to  kiss  me.  "And 
what  a  pair  of  eyes!  Pity  such  charms  should  be 
wasted  on  her  kind." 

"A  pity,  indeed!"  agreed  the  lady,  but  she 
tossed  her  head  and  looked  angry.  "'Her  kind' 
have  no  right  to  beauty,  have  they?  Only  ill- 
looks  are  for  humble  folks.  Here,  little  gold- 
locks  "  —  she  pulled  off  her  glove,  took  a  ring 
from  her  finger  and  slipped  it  on  mine  —  "this 
ring  shall  bring  good  luck  to  you.  I  give  it  to  you 
in  exchange  for  the  flowers  you  have  given  me  on 
my  wedding-day.  You  understand?  —  Yes?" 

"Why,  Angela!"  -  that  the  gentleman  wasn't 
pleased  I  could  see  plainly  enough  —  "you  have 
given  her  the  moonstone." 

"I  know,  I  want  her  to  have  it,"  she  answered, 
very  shortly.  "I  want  'her  kind'  to  have  some 
good  luck,  too.  You  can  buy  me  another  like  it." 

She  pushed  past  him  and  ran  down  to  the 
shore,  where  father  was  waiting  with  the  dory. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  when  father  came  back, 
he  said  to  aunt,  while  he  was  undressing  for 


36  SANDPEEP 

supper:  "It's  jes'  's  you  'lowed,  Mehitable;  them 
was  runaways.  'Squire  Willets  merried  them,  'n' 
I  was  groomsman  to  the  capting"  -  he  chuckled 
under  his  beard.  "She  was  dretful  sot  on  hevin' 
a  priest  to  splice  'em,  'n'  wouldn't  hear  to  hevin' 
Elder  Slocum.  So,  es  there  wa'n't  no  priest  to 
the  Headlands,  she  hed  to  let  'Squire  Willets  tie 
the  knot  —  'n'  I  cal'late  he  tied  it  'bout  es  tight 
es  any  priest  could  hev  done  it,  but  she  'lowed 
she'd  hev  a  priest  tie  it  over  again  when  she  got 
to  Boston.  The  Lewiston  was  ready  to  pull  out 
'fore  the  squire  got  done  writin'  the  sutificut,  'n' 
the  bride  ast  me  to  take  charge  of  it  'till  she'd 
send  fur  it.  Though  what  she  wants  a  sutificut 
from  the  squire  fur,  when  she's  goin'  to  hev  a 
priest  merry  her  over  agin',  I  don'  know  'm  sure. 
Howsomedever,  I  hain't  no  call  to  complain  - 
see  what  the  capting  guv  me."  He  took  a 
bank-note  from  his  wallet,  and  held  it  toward 
aunt. 

"For  the  land  sakes,  Peleg  Brenson!"  she  ex- 
claimed, in  surprise.  "Twenty  dollar  —  'n'  he 
set  up  on  a  cheer  the  whol'  endurin'  night!  'N' 
they  didn't,  either  of  them,  eat  anything  fur 
breakfast  'cept  a  biskit,  'n'  a  glass  of  milk."  Then 
a  sudden  fear  made  her  add:  "Jes'  like's  not 
'tain't  a  good  bill,  Peleg." 

"Yes  't  be,"  father  told  her.  "I  hed  it  proved 
to  the  store.  Mr.  Simpson  offered  to  give  me 
silver  fur  it,  but  I  caFlated  I'd  ruther  keep  it  fur  a 


SANDPEEP  37 

while  to  look  at.  A  body  don't  git  a  chance  to 
see  such  a  handsome  pictur  only  oncet  in  a  great 
while."  He  chuckled  again,  then  went  on  to  say: 
"Jonadab  Pung  used  to  say  a  piece  of  po'try 
'bout  the  wind  bein'  a  pow'ful  bad  one  thet 
didn't  blow  no  good  to  nobody  -  -  'n'  it's  true 's 
preachin' ;  Nahum  Winner's  schunner  went  ashore 
on  Cranb'ry  last  night,  in  the  same  gale  thet 
bio  wed  this  greenback  into  my  wallet." 

"An'  this  handsome  ring  to  my  finger,  'n'  two 
quarters  into  my  pocket,"  I  piped  out  from  be- 
hind the  stove,  where  I  was  devouring  the  stale 
candy  father  had  bought  for  me  at  the  Headlands 
store. 

Yes,  I  remember  everything;  but,  for  fear  that 
I  might  forget,  as  the  years  roll  by,  I  think  it 
is  well  to  have  it  written  down  in  my  diary. 


CHAPTER  III 

IF  I  had  needed  anything  to  keep  me  in  mind  of 
our  visitors,  the  music  of  my  harp  made  of 
the  fiddlestring  I  bought  at  the  Headlands 
store,  and  the  pretty,  shiny  ring  on  my  finger, 
would  have  reminded  me.  For  want  of  other 
names  I  always  called  them  "the  finger-ring 
lady,"  and  "the  fiddlestring  gentleman";  and  I 
speak  of  them  that  way  even  yet;  for  I  don't 
remember  ever  having  heard  father  say  what 
their  names  were,  and  he  was  the  only  one  here 
that  knew. 

Many  and  many  a  time,  after  father  left  us, 
when  I  missed  him  so  sorely  I  could  hardly  go 
on  living,  the  wind-music  would  soothe  me  and 
help  me  to  forget  my  sorrow. 

Even  yet,  tall  and  old  as  I  am,  I  like  to  sit 
beside  the  loft  window  and  listen  to  the  harp  — 
though  the  wind  has  to  play  on  a  waxed  thread 
now,  for  the  fiddlestring  wore  out  long  ago.  For 
a  long  time  the  ring  was  too  large  for  any  one  of 
my  fingers;  and  though  I  wrapped  a  lot  of  thread 
around,  aunt  would  not  let  me  wear  it  for  fear  I 
might  lose  it.  Now,  it  fits  my  third  finger,  and 
I  wear  it  all  the  time,  except  on  Saturdays,  when 
I  do  the  scrubbing.  When  I  put  my  hands  into 

38 


SANDPEEP  39 

hot  soapsuds  I  take  it  off,  for  I  don't  want  the 
shiny  little  rock  to  get  dim.  It  does  really  look 
like  the  moon  behind  a  fleecy  cloud,  which  I 
guess  is  the  reason  it  is  called  a  "  moonstone," 
and  not  because,  as  aunt  allows,  it  fell  from  the 
sky,  as  shiny  rocks  do  sometimes. 

I  like  to  believe  that  my  little  ring  has  brought 
me  good  luck,  as  the  lady  said  it  would,  though  I 
have  had  a  good  deal  of  sorrow  and  trouble,  too. 
But  now  everything  looks  bright.  First  came 
the  promise  of  the  summer  school,  and  then  Dr. 
Parke's  letter  telling  me  about  the  other  good 
chance.  Aunt  and  I  were  frying  doughnuts  this 
morning;  I  was  rolling  out  and  cutting  the 
doughnuts,  and  aunt  was  slipping  them  into  the 
bubbling  lard,  when  she  said: 

"There  comes  Zemro,  'crost  the  pastur'.  Jes' 
like 's  not  Louine's  been  took  again,  'n'  he's  been 
to  fetch  some  med'cin'  fur  her." 

Though  one  of  the  very  best  of  school-teachers, 
who  always  talked  like  a  grammar  and  a  dic- 
tionary, boarded  with  us  so  long,  and  I  myself 
have  tried  hard  to  teach  her  how  to  speak  prop- 
erly, aunt  will  not  learn.  She  says  she's  too  old 
to  learn  to  "book-talk"  like  Mr.  Merion  and  me. 

"Hello,  Zem!"  I  called  to  him,  when  he 
stepped  on  the  stoop;  "where  you  bound?" 

"To  home,  now.  I  been  to  the  Headlands  fur 
some  drops  fur  Louine,  'n'  the  postmaster  wanted 
I  should  fetch  this  here  letter  along  to  "you," 


40  SANDPEEP 

When  I  saw  Dr.  Parkc's  handwriting,  I  knew 
that  my  right  ear  hadn't  been  ringing  all  morn- 
ing for  nothing. 

"Hain't  you  comin'  in  to  rest  you?"  aunt  asked 
Zem,  while  I  opened  the  letter. 

"Not  this  mornin',  hain't  got  time." 

"Louine  hain't  hed  another  spell,  hes  she?" 

"She  hedn't  when  I  left  home;  but  she  'lowed 
she  might  hev  one,  'n'  wanted  I  should  come 
back  soon's  I  could." 

"Aunt  Mehitable  Brenson!"  I  exclaimed, 
waving  the  doctor's  letter  about  my  head,  as  we 
do  the  star-spangled  banner  on  the  Fourth  of 
July.  "Dr.  Parke's cousin,  Miss  Warrington,  has 
come  from  New  York  to  live  at  Surgecliff  Lodge, 
and  wants  a  teacher  for  her  little  nephew,  and  I 
am  to  go  to  see  her  right  off.  The  doctor  thinks 
I  will  suit  her,  and  he  says  that  if  she  will  give 
me  the  chance,  it  will  pay  me  more  than  I  should 
get  for  teaching  the  summer  school." 

"Then  you  jes'  leave  them  doughnuts,  Jn'  go 
'n'  dress  you,  'n'  go  right  along  to  the  Lodge," 
said  aunt,  almost  as  excited  as  I  was;  and  Zemro 
allowed  that  if  there  was  a  breeze  he  could  carry 
me  in  the  sloop.  But  there  wasn't;  not  even  a 
cat's  paw  rippled  the  water,  let  alone  a  sailing 
breeze.  So  I  told  him  I  could  walk  to  the  Lodge 
easily  enough,  and  I  went  out  to  the  shed  to  wash 
the  dough  from  my  hands,  I  was  passing  through 
the  kitchen  "to  the  closet-room  when  Zemro  said: 


SANDPEEP  41 

"I  guess  I'll  walk  a  little  ways  with  you,  Sand- 
peep,  then  the  road  won't  'pear  so  long!" 

I  answered,  "All  right,  I'll  be  glad  to  have 
company," 

"Thought  Louine  was  in  a  hurry  fur  her 
drops?"  I  heard  aunt  say,  when  I  was  in  the 
closet-room;  the  cracks  between  the  boards  of 
the  partition  are  so  wide  I  could  hear  every  word 
that  was  said  in  the  kitchen. 

"Guess  she'll  keep  a  little  whfle  longer  'thout 
*em,"  Zemro  answered,  plumping  himself  down 
on  a  chair,  as  if  he  were  a  bag  of  wheat. 

"Guess  she  hain't  never 's  poorly 's  she  thinks 
she  be."  I  had  to  laugh  when  aunt  said  that;  it 
is  just  what  I  think  about  Louine  and  her  spells. 
"Ef  she  didn't  hev  no  one  to  be  everlastin'ly 
fetchin*  med'cin'  fur  her,  don't  guess  she  would 
hev  spells 's  often 's  she  doos.  There's  a  lot  in 
folks  hevin*  to  do  'thout  things." 

"Yes,  there  be,"  Zemro,  I  was  glad  to  hear, 
agreed.  "Sister  most  times  fetches  on  a  spell  jes' 
worritin'  tjout  gittin'  one.  She  don't  seem  to  hev 
a  mite  of  will-power." 

"She's  too  much  want-power,"  aunt  allowed, 
briskly  passing  the  rolling-pin  over  the  dough  on 
the  bake-board;  "Louine's  allus  wantin'  to  do 
what  she  hedn't  ought,  like  when  she  traipses 
over  the  mounting  the  whol'  endurin'  day  a-plum- 
min',  when  blueb'ries  's  thet  scurse  she  can't  pick 
enough  fur  a  pie.  But,  there!  I  hain't  no  call  to 


42  SANDPEEP 

jedge  my  neighbors;  I  hed  jes'  ought  to  be  thank- 
ful 't  Sandpeep  ain't  like  some  folks." 

"Sandpeep's  differunt  from  most  girls,"  al- 
lowed Zemro;  neither  he  nor  aunt  seemed  to 
remember  that  I  could  hear  every  word. 

"Yes,  she  be,"  aunt  agreed,  "'n'  Sandpeep's 
pow'ful  smart,  too." 

"Yes,  she  be;  I  allus  'lowed  es  Sandpeep  was 
the  smartest  girl  'round  here.  Don't  you  mind, 
Aunt  Hit,  how  I  used  to  say  so  when  you'd  'low 
she  wouldn't  never  learn  useful  ways,  'n'  wouldn't 
never  be  fit  fur  nawthin'  but  teachin'  school?" 

Zem  does  like  to  plague  aunt  when  he  gets  the 
chance. 

"Yes  —  yes  —  Mr.  Zemro  Haskill,  I  do  mind  't 
I  said  them  very  words,  'n'  hain't  they  come 
true?  Hain't  Sandpeep  got  the  chance  to  teach 
school,  'n'  the  little  Lodge  boy,  too,  I  want  to 
know?" 

"You  don't  know  yet,  aunt,  whether  I  am 
going  to  get  the  chance  to  teach  the  Lodge  boy," 
I  said,  stepping  into  the  kitchen,  all  dressed  up 
in  my  new  blue  calico  frock,  which  is  real  hand- 
some, though  it  doesn't  fit  as  I  should  like. 
"You  mustn't  mind  what  Zemro  says;  can't 
you  see  that  he  only  talks  that  way  to  plague 
you?  I'm  going  to  take  a  few  of  these  dough- 
nuts to  eat  on  the  way,  as  I  sha'n't  be  home 
for  dinner,"  I  added,  and  hunted  up  a  paper 
bag. 


SANDPEEP  43 

"Like's  not  Miss  Warrin'ton '11  ast  you  to 
stop  to  dinner,"  suggested  aunt,  looking  me  over 
with  a  pleased  expression  on  her  wrinkled  face. 

"Jonadab  Pung  says  them  city  folks  to  the 
Headlands  hev  dinner  's  late 's  seven  o'clock  in 
the  evenin',"  observed  Zemro,  rising,  and  pulling 
his  hat  forward  on  his  head.  He  never  thinks  of 
taking  it  off  when  he  comes  into  the  house,  as 
Mr.  Merion  always  did. 

"Dinner  't  seven  o'clock  in  the  evenin'!"  re- 
peated aunt,  scornfully.  "  Jonadab  Fung's  a 
born  ejet!  'S  ef  any  baptized  Christians  et  din- 
ner 't  bedtime !  When  'd  they  hev  supper,  I 
should  like  to  know?  Nex'  mornin'?" 

"I  d'no',  'm  sure,"  answered  Zemro,  hunch- 
ing his  shoulders.  "All 't  I  know  's  what  Jona- 
dab told  me.  Come  along,  Sandpeep,  ef  you're 
a-goin'." 

"Listen!"  I  stopped  on  the  stoop;  "I  hear  a 
team  on  the  wood-road." 

"Guess  it's  the  hen  man,"  allowed  aunt,  who 
had  come  to  the  door  to  see  me  off.  "I  see  him 
goin'  up  Purse's  hill  yistiddy." 

"If  it  is  the  hen-cart,  and  it's  going  to  the 
Headlands,  I  can  ride  as  far  as  the  Lodge,"  I 
said,  and  without  asking  Zemro  to  excuse  me  I 
ran  up  the  pasture-road,  toward  the  woods. 

I  soon  caught  up  with  the  large  coop  on  wheels. 
The  hen  peddler  was  droning  a  hymn  tune,  but 
stopped,  and  said,  "Whoa!  Whoa!"  several 


44  SANDPEEP 

times,  when  I  spoke  to  him,  as  if  his  old  mare 
weren't  only  too  glad  to  stop  at  the  first  whoa. 

"Be  I  goin'  to  the  Headlands,  'n'  will  I  let 
you  ride  with  me?"  he  repeated.  "Certingly. 
There's  allus  room  on  this  here  veehicle  fur  one 
more  passenger.  Jes'  climb  right  up  here  'long- 
side  of  me,  onless  you'd  ruther  ride  inside  with 
the  fowels!" 

He  laughed  at  his  joke,  moved  to  the  end  of 
the  narrow  board  in  front  of  the  coop,  and  I 
climbed  over  the  wheel  to  his  side.  When  the 
cart  was  bumping  along  again,  he  asked  me  if  I 
was  bound  for  the  Headlands. 

"Only  as  far  as  SurgeclifE  Lodge,"  I  informed 
him. 

"To  the  Lodge,  be  you?  Thet's  where  I'm 
bound  fur  fust;  hev  a  half  dozen  hens  fur  there. 
You  caP latin'  to  stop  to  the  Lodge?" 

"I  don't  know  yet;  maybe  I  shall." 

"Goin'  to  try  fur  a  chance,  most  likely?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

We  jolted  along  for  a  spell;  then  the  hen  man 
remarked : 

"She's  a  pow'ful  smart  old  lady." 

"Who  is?"  I  asked. 

"Miss  Warrin'ton  to  the  Lodge." 

"Is  she  old?"  I  was  surprised,  though  I  don't 
know  why,  for  I  hadn't  thought  about  the  lady's 
age. 

"Wall — "  bending  forward  to  brush  with  his 


SANDPEEP  45 

alder  switch  a  tormenting  fly  from  the  old  mare's 
neck,  "she  hain't 's  old 's  I  be  —  hain't  wrinkled 
a  mite,  but  her  hair's  most's  gray's  mine  — 
spry  's  a  young  gal,  too." 

"Have  you  seen  the  little  boy?"   I  inquired. 

"The  little  shaver  't  can't  talk  English?" 

"I  mean  Miss  Warrington's  little  nephew,"  I 
explained. 

"Thet's  him.  The  gentleman  't  buys  all  the 
things  fur  the  kitchen  —  I  don't  know  what  his 
name  is,  he  hain't  never  told  me  —  says  the  little 
boy  won't  talk  nawthin'  but  French.  Gurus, 
ain't  it,  such  a  little  shaver  knowin'  how  to  talk 
French?" 

I  did  not  answer.  I  was  too  busy  thinking  - 
asking  myself  how  I,  who  didn't  know  a  word 
of  French,  could  hope  to  teach  a  scholar  that 
wouldn't  talk  English.  For  a  minute  I  felt  as  if 
I  ought  to  ask  the  hen  man  to  stop  the  cart  — 
as  if  I  ought  to  go  right  back  home,  and  be  glad 
I  had  the  promise  of  the  summer  school. 

Then  I  said  to  myself,  "Don't  be  a  goose, 
Keren  Brenson;  if  Dr.  Parke  hadn't  known  very 
well  you  could  teach  the  Lodge  boy,  he  would  not 
have  asked  you  to  call  to  see  Miss  Warrington." 
So  I  sat  still  on  the  narrow  board  —  as  still  as 
I  could,  that  is,  for  every  jolt  of  the  cart  nearly 
pitched  me  forward  on  to  the  old  mare  —  and 
rode  on  to  the  Lodge.  I  am  truly  thankful  now 
that  I  did! 


46  SANDPEEP 

Though  I  have  often  seen  the  big  house  on  the 
cliff  when  sailing  by  in  the  sloop,  and  have  looked 
through  the  bars  of  the  iron  gates  when  walking 
past  the  place  —  I  used  to  pretend  that  a  giant 
lived  there  —  I  had  never  been  near  enough  to 
see  what  a  really  elegant  house  it  is. 

Miss  Warrington's  brother,  who  built  it,  lived 
in  it  only  one  summer;  then  for  years  it  was 
kept  shut  up,  and  nobody  was  allowed  to  go  in- 
side the  gates.  Now  they  stood  wide  open,  and 
oh!  how  I  hoped  and  prayed,  as  the  cart  rolled 
between  them  and  up  the  broad,  smooth  road  — 
no  more  bumping  and  jolting  now !  —  that  I 
might  suit  Miss  Warrington,  even  if  I  didn't 
know  a  thing  about  French. 

All  the  stories  I  had  heard  about  the  rich  city 
gentleman's  house  —  its  boughten  carpets,  expen- 
sive furniture,  books,  pictures  in  real  gold  frames, 
ornaments  —  came  back  to  my  mind,  and  the 
nearer  we  got  to  the  house  the  smaller  grew  my 
hope  that  Miss  Warrington  would  give  me  the 
chance.  Once  I  even  said  to  myself — 'fraid-cat 
that  I  was!  —  "Better  go  home,  Keren  Brenson; 
better  take  the  summer  school ;  better  fish  and  trap 
lobsters  in  fair  weather  or  foul,  than  go  on  to 
the  Lodge,  only  to  be  disappointed  and  'shamed." 
Dear  knows!  just  as  like  as  not  I  would  have 
asked  the  hen  man  to  stop  and  let  me  get  down, 
if  he  hadn't  said  just  then: 

"Guess  I  better  take  you  to  the  front  door  be- 


SANDPEEP  47 

fore  I  drive  'round  to  the  back-side  of  the  house 
with  the  fowels." 

Before  I  could  speak,  the  cart  had  swung  up  to 
the  broad  stone  steps  in  the  terrace  in  front  of  the 
house,  and  when  it  stopped,  every  rooster  and  hen 
in  the  coop  set  up  such  a  crowing  and  cackling, 
you  couldn't  hear  yourself. 

In  the  midst  of  this  dreadful  racket  the  front 
door  opened,  and  a  dignified-looking  gentleman 
came  out  to  the  steps,  and  called  to  the  hen  man 
as  cross  as  could  be: 

"Drive  around  to  the  rear  of  the  house  with 
your  noisy  fowls!" 

"Thet's  what  I  cal'late  to  do,  my  friend,  jes' 
soon 's  I  set  this  young  lady  down  here,"  the  hen 
man  answered,  not  in  the  least  put  out. 

I  was  "set  down,"  sure  enough!  The  skirt  of 
my  dress  caught  in  the  cart-wheel,  ancbdown  I 
went,  and  sat  flat  on  the  gravel  beside  the  "steps. 

I  wouldn't  have  minded  the  jolt,  or  the  tear 
in  my  skirt,  but  I  was  dreadfully  put  out  when 
someone  at  one  of  the  open  windows  laughed. 
It  was  a  woman's  voice,  and  I  know  she  laughed 
at  me. 

"Do  you  wish  to  see  the  housekeeper?"  the 
dignified  gentleman  at  the  door  asked  me,  when  I 
walked  up  the  steps,  my  face  red  as  a  boiled 
lobster,  I  know. 

"No,  sir  —  I  want  —  I  —  Dr.  Parke  asked  me 
to  call  to  see  Miss  Warrington." 


48  SANDPEEP 

When  I  said  that,  the  gentleman's  manner 
changed;  he  stepped  to  one  side,  sort  of  bowed, 
and  waved  his  hand  for  me  to  come  in.  "I  will 
tell  Miss  Warrington,"  he  said,  just  as  polite  as 
could  be,  and  asked  me  to  step  into  the  recep- 
tion-room. 

I  followed  him  across  what  I  thought  was  a 
good-sized  room,  into  another,  where  it  was  so 
dark,  I  could  hardly  see  a  thing  until  the  curtains 
were  put  back. 

"What  name,  please?"  the  gentleman  asked 
me. 

"Miss  Warrington,"  I  told  him,  wondering  at 
his  forgetting. 

I  mean  your  name,  Miss." 

"Oh,  excuse  me,"  and  I  laughed;  "my  name 
is  Keren  Brenson." 

He  went  out  of  the  room  then,  but  not  before  I 
had  seen  the  smile  on  his  lips.  I  was  glad  to  see 
that  such  a  very  solemn  gentleman  could  smile. 
He  came  back  in  a  few  minutes,  before  I  had 
had  half  enough  time  to  look  about  me  at  the 
boughten  carpet,  thick  and  soft  as  moss  in  the 
woods,  the  pictures  on  the  walls,  and  the  beauti- 
ful chairs,  and  told  me  that  Miss  Warrington 
would  be  down  directly.  Then,  instead  of  taking 
a  chair  and  talking  to  me,  he  went  out  of  the 
room  again. 


CHAPTER   IV 

THOUGH  Miss  Warrington's  hair  is  gray,  as 
the  hen  man  told  me,  her  face  isn't  a  bit 
wrinkled,  and  her  way  of  moving  about 
isn't  any  older  than  her  face.  She  makes  me 
think  of  a  graceful  bird. 

"Good-morning,  Miss  Brenson,"  she  said  in 
such  a  pleasant  voice  when  she  came  into  the  room. 
"When  did  you  receive  Dr.  Parke's  letter?" 

"This  morning,  ma'am,"  I  answered.  I  did 
not  sit  down  again,  after  I  had  made  a  bow,  and 
shaken  the  tiny  little  hand  she  held  out. 

"You  are  very  prompt,  and  I  am  glad  you  came 
at  once.  I  want  a  teacher  for  my  little  nephew. 
How  soon  can  you  take  charge  of  him?" 

"Right  away,  ma'am,  if  you  think  I  can  suit 
you." 

"I  haven't  the  least  doubt  but  that  you  will. 
Sit  down!"  She  took  a  chair,  too. x  "You  need 
only  to  know  how  to  teach  a  small  boy  to  speak 
and  read  English,  and  from  what  Dr.  Parke  told 
me,  I  think  you  will  be  able  to  do  that.  You  have 
been  educated  by  a  Harvard  tutor,  I  understand  ?  " 

"I  don't  believe  Mr.  Merion  would  call  me 
'educated,'  ma'am;  he  didn't  stay  here  long 
enough  for  that." 

49 


50  SANDPEEP 

"At  all  events,  he  taught  you  to  speak  differ- 
ently from  the  rest  of  the  people  who  live  here,  — 
'natives,'  as  you  call  yourselves.  If  you  possess 
an  unlimited  supply  of  patience,  I  think  we  may 
consider  the  matter  settled." 

Then  she  asked  me  what  pay  I  wanted,  and  I 
told  her  I  should  like  as  much,  anyhow,  as  the 
summer  school  would  pay.  She  smiled,  and  said 
that  she  would  be  very  willing  to  pay  twice  as 
much,  if  I  proved  myself  able  to  manage  her 
little  nephew. 

"Do  you  live  near  enough  to  go  home  in  the 
evening?"  she  asked.  " Geoffrey's  maid  will  have 
the  care  of  him  at  night." 

"  I  live  only  a  couple  of  miles  from  here,  and  I  —  " 

"Then  of  course  you  cannot  go  home  at  night," 
she  interrupted.  "You  can  arrange  to  stay  at  the 
Lodge,  I  dare  say?" 

"Yes,  ma'am;  I  will  do  whatever  suits  you,  for 
I  am  very  anxious  to  get  the  chance." 

"You  shall  have  the  'chance,'  "  Miss  Warring- 
ton  answered,  a  smile  twinkling  in  her  blue  eyes. 
"Can  you  begin  your  duties  to-morrow?" 

"To-day,  if  you  like,  ma'am." 

"To-morrow  will  do.  Did  you  walk  from 
home  this  morning?" 

"No,  ma'am,  I  came  with  the  hen  man  in  his 
cart." 

"Are  you  going  back  with  the  —  hen  man?" 
I  can't  imagine  what  made  her  eyes  twinkle  so! 


SANDPEEP  51 

"No,  ma'am;  he  has  gone  to  the  Headlands. 
I  shall  walk  back." 

"By  no  means,"  she  said  quickly.  "You  shall 
have  some  luncheon,  then  I  will  send  you  home 
in  my  cart!  Now,  you  must  make  the  acquaint- 
ance of  your  pupil." 

She  pulled  a  long,  thick  cord  that  was  hanging 
against  the  wall  near  the  door,  and  presently  the 
same  gentleman  that  had  let  me  in,  came  into 
the  room. 

"James,"  Miss  Warrington  said,  "tell  Janet 
to  come  to  the  reception-room  with  Master 
Geoffrey." 

He  bowed  and,  without  ever  looking  toward 
me,  went  out  of  the  room.  That  dignified  gen- 
tleman, with  his  grand  way,  is  one  of  the  help, 
and  I  thought  he  must  be  a  relation  of  Miss 
Warrington' s! 

"My  nephew  is  a  peculiar  child,  Miss  Bren- 
son,"  she  said,  and  I,  thinking  she  had  forgotten 
my  name  —  hardly  anybody  does  remember  it, 
unless  they  are  very  well  acquainted  with  the 
names  of  Job's  family  —  interrupted  her  to  say: 

"My  name  is  Keren,  ma'am,  Keren  Happuch; 
I  was  called  after  Job's  youngest  daughter." 

"Yes  —  so  I  have  heard;  but  you  must  be 
Miss  Brenson  here,"  she  answered,  in  a  way  that 
told  me  I  had  made  a  mistake  of  some  sort.  I 
meant  well,  I'm  sure,  and  didn't  want  her  to 
call  me  "Miss,"  when  everybody  calls  me  Keren, 


52  SANDPEEP 

or  "Sandpeep."  "Geoffrey,"  she  went  on  to  ex- 
plain, "has  some  strange  ways,  and  requires  one 
to  be  both  patient  and  firm.  He  is  extremely 
dull,  I  regret  to  say,  and  very  obstinate.  If  he 
should  take  a  fancy  to  you,  I  don't  apprehend 
much  trouble,  but  — " 

Just  then  the  door-curtain  was  pushed  back, 
and  a  nice-looking  young  lady  came  into  the 
room  dragging  after  her  a  very  unwilling  little 
boy.  Miss  Warrington  said  something  to  him, 
in  French,  I  guess,  for  I  did  not  understand  her, 
and  he  began  to  stamp  his  feet,  and  scream;  he 
even  tried  to  bite  Janet's  hand,  because  she  kept 
fast  hold  of  his. 

"What  a  very  pretty  little  boy!"  I  couldn't 
help  but  say,  for  he  is  the  handsomest  child  I 
have  ever  seen,  and  he  was  dressed  beautifully  in 
a  white  suit  trimmed  with  red.  The  minute  he 
heard  my  voice^  he  stopped  stamping  and  scream- 
ing, and  looked  at  me  with  his  big  black  eyes; 
then  he  suddenly  snatched  his  hand  from  Janet's, 
ran  to  me,  climbed  on  my  lap,  and  threw  his 
arms  around  my  neck. 

"Will  you  look  at  that,  now!"  exclaimed  the 
surprised  Janet;  and  Miss  Warrington,  the  vexed 
look  gone  from  her  face,  said,  as  if  a  heavy  load 
had  been  taken  from  her,  "Well,  you  have  made 
a  conquest,  Miss  Brenson!  I  can't  tell  you  how 
relieved  I  feel." 

I  don't  believe  she  felt  any  more  relieved  than 


SANDPEEP  53 

I  did ;  and  I  showed  it,  too,  by  hugging  and  kiss- 
ing the  dear  little  fellow. 

"I  guess  he  will  let  me  teach  him,"  I  allowed, 
when  he  was  sitting  on  my  lap,  contented  as  a 
sleepy  kitten. 

"I  am  quite  certain  you  will  have  no  trouble," 
Miss  Warrington  agreed,  and  said  to  the  hand- 
some lady  who  came  into  the  room:  "Just  see, 
Juliet,  how  well  Geoffrey  already  loves  his  gov- 
erness. Miss  Brenson,  Mrs.  Warrington." 

I  put  the  boy  off  my  lap  to  get  up  and  make  a 
bow  to  his  mother,  as  I  thought  her  then.  She 
nodded  her  head,  and  looked  at  me  in  a  way  that 
made  me  feel  hot  all  over.  I  don't  know  why 
she  looked  at  me  like  that,  I'm  sure;  I  didn't 
say  a  word,  only  made  a  bow,  which  aunt  says  I 
do  very  nicely. 

The  minute  I  sat  down,  Geoffrey  was  on  my 
lap  again.  "You  good  —  you  rJretty  —  I  love 
you,"  he  said,  hugging  me. 

The  ladies  laughed,  and  I  knew  that  it  was 
Mrs.  Warrington  who  had  laughed  when  I  fell 
out  of  the  hen-cart. 

"He  even  condescends  to  speak  English,"  she 
said,  and  put  on  a  pair  of  spectacles  with  a  long 
handle.  "I  congratulate  you,  Aunt  Elinor,  on 
finding  so  accomplished  and  attractive  a  gov- 
erness as  Miss  —  er  —  Brenson." 

al  am  very  glad  your  little  boy  likes  me, 
ma'am,"  I  said  to  her,  though  she  hadn't  spoken 


54  SANDPEEP 

to  me.  "I  shall  try  my  best  to  please  you,  and 
Miss  Warrington." 

She  sat  down  in  an  arm-chair  opposite  to  me, 
and  kept  looking  at  me  through  the  long-handled 
specs. 

I  may  get  used  to  the  ways  of  city  folks,  but 
I  must  say  they  try  me  sorely  now.  I  know  I 
appeared  more  awkward  and  ignorant  than  I 
really  am,  with  that  fault-finding  Mrs.  Warring- 
ton  watching  me  as  a  cat  does  a  poor,  scared 
mouse,  and  I  felt  truly  thankful  when  a  queer 
noise  somewhere  in  the  house  —  it  sounded  like 
the  buzzing  of  a  giant  bumble-bee  —  made  Miss 
Warrington  get  up  from  her  chair  and  say: 

"There  is  the  luncheon  gong,  Miss  Brenson. 
I  have  not  ordered  anything  for  you,  Juliet, 
only  for  Geoffrey  and  his  governess.  Come, 
Miss  Brenson." 

I  was  truly  glad  to  hear  that  the  laughing 
woman  wasn't  coming  with  us.  I  dare  say  Miss 
Warrington  laughs  at  me,  too,  but  only  with  her 
eyes;  and  I  don't  mind  their  twinkling,  as  I  do 
Mrs.  Warrington' s  smile  and  looks. 

Now,  used  as  I  have  been  all  my  life  to  eating 
my  meals  off  an  oil-cloth  table-cover  and  out  of 
plain,  heavy  dishes,  of  course  I  thought  the  fine 
white  table-cover,  and  pretty  dishes,  thin  almost 
as  paper,  the  very  handsomest  things  I  had  ever 
seen;  but  I  would  have  died  rather  than  let  her 
see  I  thought  so.  When  the  food  was  set  before 


SANDPEEP  55 

me,  I  must  say  I  could  not  let  on  it  wasn't  new 
to  me.  There's  a  lot  of  difference  between  salt 
pork  and  codfish,  and  croquettes  —  that  is  what 
Miss  Warrington  called  the  little  round  brown 
thing  James  put  on  my  plate  —  and  I  did  not 
know  whether  to  cut  it  with  a  knife  or  eat  it 
with  a  spoon,  until  I  heard  Miss  Warrington  tell 
Geoffrey  to  use  his  fork.  Thank  goodness,  meals, 
like  everything  else  in  this  world,  come  to  an  end, 
and  I  was  more  than  glad  to  leave  the  table 
when  Miss  Warrington  got  up  and  said: 

"I  know  you  want  to  tell  your  aunt  about  our 
arrangements,  Miss  Brenson,  so  I  will  order  the 
cart  at  once.  What  is  it,  dear?"  she  asked 
Geoffrey,  who  was  pulling  her  sleeve  and  talking 
French  as  fast  as  he  could.  When  she  said, 
"No,  not  to-day,"  he  began  to  scream,  and  ran 
out  of  the  room. 

"There,  Miss  Brenson,"  his  aunt  said,  "I  hope 
you  do  not  regret  having  undertaken  to  teach 
such  a  fiery- tempered  pupil?" 

I  told  her  I  did  not  regret  it,  and  I  wished  I  could 
speak  French,  so  that  I  could  understand  him. 

"It  is  because  you  do  not  know  French  that  I 
engage  you  to  teach  him,"  she  answered. 

"But  he  may  not  like  me  when  he  finds  out 
that  I  can't  understand  him,"  I  allowed. 

"You  need  have  no  fear  of  that,"  she  answered, 
and  smiled.  "He  has  already  taken  such  a  fancy 
to  you  that  he  wants  to  go  home  with  you," 


56  SANDPEEP 

"And  why  shouldn't  he?  Would  his  mother 
have  any  objections?" 

"His  mother?  Oh,  you  mean  Mrs.  Warring- 
ton.  She  is  not  Geoffrey's  mother." 

How  truly  thankful  I  was  to  hear  that!  But 
what  I  said  was:  "Then  won't  you  let  him  come 
with  me?  I  will  take  good  care  of  him." 

"I  feel  certain  that  you  would;  but  I  cannot 
allow  him  to  go;  his  father  might  not  approve." 
She  thought  for  a  minute,  then  added:  "I  may 
as  well  tell  you  now,  that  the  boy  must  be  very 
carefully  guarded  at  all  times.  He  must  never  be 
allowed  to  stray  out  of  your  sight  when  you  are 
outdoors  with  him,  and  you  must  never  leave 
him,  outdoors  or  in  the  house,  unless  Janet,  or 
some  member  of  the  family,  relieves  you  of  the 
care  of  him.  These  are  his  father's  orders,  and 
must  be  obeyed  to  the  letter.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

I  answered  that  I  understood;  but,  for  the  life 
of  me,  I  can't  see  why  a  boy  as  big  as  Geoffrey  — 
he  must  be  at  least  ten  years  old  —  needs  to  be 
tended  like  a  baby.  "Howsomedever,"  as  aunt 
says,  "rusticator  ways  are  not  Bunker's  Cove 
ways." 

When  we  were  outside  the  dining-room,  Miss 
Warrington  suddenly  laid  her  hand  on  my  arm, 
and  said,  in  a  kind,  motherly  way: 

"Miss  Brenson,  you  are  a  sensible  girl,  and 
will  not  take  offense  if  I  give  you  some  advice,  I 


SANDPEEP  57 

know.  I  like  you  very  much,  and  think  you  and 
I  will  get  on  famously  together.  You  have  one 
or  two  old-fashioned  habits  I  want  you  to  try  to 
correct.  One  is,  saying  'ma'am';  the  other  is 
courtesy  ing  —  bowing  when  you  are  spoken  to. 
Both  habits  are  quaint  and  pretty,  but  they  are 
old-fashioned;  and  I  should  not  like  Geoffrey, 
who  is  imitative  as  a  monkey,  to  copy  them. 
You  are  not  offended,  I  hope?" 

"No,  indeed,  I'm  not,  ma'am  —  Miss  Warring- 
ton,  ' ' — beginning  at  once  to  follow  her  advice .  "I 
thank  you  very  much  for  telling  me.  I  may  not 
be  able  to  stop  bowing  and  saying  'ma'am'  all  at 
once,  for  I  have  been  brought  up  to  think  them 
manners;  but  I  will  try  very  hard." 

"You  are  a  good,  sensible,  clever  girl,  and  I 
understand  fully  why  Dr.  Parke  takes  such  an 
interest  in  you.  You  will  soon  learn  many  things 
not  in  school-books;  and  when  you  want  to  ask 
questions,  come  to  me.  I  will  answer  them  if  I 
can." 

"Thank  you  a  thousand  times,"  I  said,  and 
she  laughed  with  me  when  I  started  to  make  a 
bow,  but  stopped  myself  just  in  time. 

I  wanted  to  give  the  dear,  kind  lady  a  hug, 
as  I  had  hugged  her  little  nephew,  but  I 
hadn't  courage  enough.  Though  I  am  a  good 
two  inches  the  taller,  she  is  steeple-high  in  dig- 
nity, and  I  was  too  scared  of  her  to  do  anything 
so  familiar. 


58  SANDPEEP 

I  came  home  in  a  different  vehicle  from  the 
hen-pen  on  wheels;  and  I  wish  some  of  the  Cove 
folks  could  have  seen  me  sitting  beside  the  solemn 
coachman  in  the  beautiful  little  "  cart, "  as  Miss 
Warrington  calls  it.  Except  the  dignified  James, 
the  coachman  —  his  name  is  Donald  —  is  the 
quietest  man  I  ever  met.  I  couldn't  get  him 
to  say  a  word  but  "Yes,  Miss,"  and  "No,  Miss," 
though  I  tried  my  best  to  make  him  talk.  I  must 
say  the  help  at  the  Lodge  are  not  nearly  as  so- 
ciable as  Miss  Warrington;  but  maybe  Donald 
and  James  will  be  more  talkative  when  we  get 
better  acquainted. 

"Howsomedever,"  I  don't  find  fault  with  any- 
body or  anything.  I  am  too  thankful  for  the 
chance  at  the  Lodge.  I  feel  something  as  a  tad- 
pole must,  whose  time  has  come  to  crawl  out  of 
the  puddle  in  which  he  was  born,  and  begin  to 
hop.  To-morrow  /  shall  begin  to  hop! 


CHAPTER  V 

WITING  down  everything  that  happens, 
,nd  what  you  think,  and  feel,  is  lots 
better  than  talking  about  it.  You  can 
be  sure  that  what  you  tell  your  book  will  not  be 
talked  about  by  the  whole  neighborhood.  So, 
keeping  a  diary  is  a  good  idea,  and  knowing  how 
to  do  it  is  something  more  I  have  to  thank  Mr. 
Merion  for.  When  Donald  came  for  me  on 
Wednesday  morning  with  the  same  little  cart, 
nearly  all  the  Cove  folks  were  at  our  house  —  to 
bid  me  good-bye,  they  said,  though  I  knew  very 
well  they  had  come  to  gape  at  the  coachman's 
dark-green  cloth  suit  with  brass  buttons,  his 
shiny  hat  and  yellow  gloves;  for  aunt  had  told 
Louine  Haskell  about  them  the  evening  before, 
and  what  is  told  Louine,  every  soul  along  shore 
hears  before  she  goes  to  sleep. 

But  I  was  thankful  the  neighbors  were  there,  for 
I  knew  that  aunt's  pride  in  my  good  fortune  would 
keep  her  from  breaking  down  before  folks.  I  try 
not  to  feel  too  joyful  at  being  at  the  Lodge,  when 
I  think  of  her,  all  alone  at  home.  Poor  dear! 
she  must  miss  me  sorely,  though  I  am  only  two 
miles  away,  and  can  go  to  see  her  every  Saturday. 

Zemro  said  to  me  when  he  helped  me  into  the 

59 


60  SANDPEEP 

cart:  "I'd  rather  you  wa'n't  goin'  to  stop  to 
the  Lodge,  Sandpeep,  but  es  you're  sot  on  goin', 
don't  you  worrit  'bout  Aunt  Hit.  Me  V  Louine 
'11  see  't  she  don't  git  lonesome." 

If  talk  will  keep  aunt  from  grieving,  Louine  cer- 
tainly will  save  her  from  many  a  sorrowful  hour! 

My  teacher  duties  are  light,  if  I  don't  count 
Geoffrey's  perfectly  dreadful  temper.  But  he 
isn't  nearly  so  stubborn  with  me  as  he  is  with 
his  aunts;  he  seems  to  just  hate  them.  I  don't 
wonder  he  doesn't  like  Mrs.  Warrington,  who 
teases  him;  but  Miss  Warrington  is  never  any- 
thing but  kind.  When  he  behaves  badly  to  me, 
I  just  pretend  I  am  crying,  when  he  will  fly  to 
me,  hug  and  kiss  me,  and  say,  over  and  over 
again,  "  Jayvoozaim"  which  is  as  near  as  I  can 
spell  it.  Janet  says  it  is  French  for  "I  love  you." 
I  should  like  to  learn  French,  but  of  course  I 
would  not  do  anything  Miss  Warrington  would 
not  like.  She  is  kind  to  me;  but  her  niece,  who 
is  a  widow-woman,  Janet  told  me,  doesn't  like 
me,  I  can  see  plainly  enough.  .  There's  no  love 
lost,  for  I  can't  endure  her.  When  she  is  where 
I  arn,  especially  at  breakfast  —  which  is  the 
only  meal  Geoffrey  and  I  take  in  the  dining- 
room  with  his  aunts;  the  others  we  have  with 
Mrs.  Gilbert,  the  housekeeper  —  I  am  on  the 
watch  all  the  time  for  fear  I  may  do  something 
to  make  her  stare  at  me  as  if  I  were  a  new 
kind  of  bug  or  animal. 


SANDPEEP  61 

By  watching  Miss  Warrington,  and  doing  ex- 
actly as  she  does,  I  sail  along  in  smooth  water. 
By  doing  that,  I  have  often  to  eat  what  I  don't 
like;  but  I  would  swallow  live  grasshoppers 
rather  than  have  the  laughing  widow-woman 
make  fun  of  me. 

The  first  day  I  came  to  the  Lodge  to  stop, 
Geoffrey  wouldn't  let  me  say  a  word  about  les- 
sons, until  he  had  shown  me  all  over  the  house. 
I  saw  the  room  in  which  the  books  are  kept  — 
such  a  lot  of  them,  I  shouldn't  think  anybody 
would  ever  be  able  to  read  them  all.  There  is 
a  piano  in  the  parlor,  a  beautiful  big  room, 
with  such  handsome  furniture  and  carpet,  and  I 
tried  to  pick  out  on  the  keys  one  of  the  hymn 
tunes  Mr.  Merion  taught  me  to  play  on  the 
instrument  at  the  schoolhouse.  Geoffrey  was 
so  pleased  that  I  could  "make  music,"  that 
I  had  to  play  over  and  over  again,  "I  Need 
Thee  Every  Hour,"  and  he  even  tried  to  sing  it 
with  me. 

Miss  Warrington  came  in  while  we  were  sing- 
ing, and  when  I  was  going  to  get  up  she  said: 
"Sit  still,  I  did  not  know  that  music  was  one 
of  your  accomplishments.  Play  something  for 
me." 

"I  can't  play  the  piano,"  I  answered;  "I  only 
know  how  to  play  a  few  hymn  tunes  on  the 
instrument  which  a  friend  of  Mr.  Merion' s  sent 
from  Boston,  to  be  used  at  meeting  on  Sundays 


62  SANDPEEP 

in  the  schoolhouse  I  never  saw  a  piano  until 
to-day." 

"This  one  is  very  old  and  out  of  tune,"  she 
said.  "I  intended  to  send  it  away  with  the  men 
who  will  bring  the  new  one,  but  I  think  I  will 
have  it  tuned,  instead,  and  moved  up  to  your 
room.  It  will  help  you  to  amuse  the  lad,  who,  I 
am  pleased  to  see,  is  fond  of  music." 

Words  could  not  have  told  her  how  truly  de- 
lighted I  was.  I  asked  her  then  if  she  had 
never  found  out  before  that  Geoffrey  was  fond 
of  music. 

"He  has  been  with  me  only  a  few  weeks,"  she 
answered,  in  a  way  that  said  she  did  not  wani  to 
be  asked  questions  about  him. 

"Sing  one  of  your  'hymn  tunes';  I  want  to 
hear  your  voice,"  and  she  sat  down  near  the 
piano. 

Though  I  wasn't  sure  I  could  play  an  accom- 
paniment, I  did  the  best  I  could,  and  sang  "  Jesus, 
Lover  of  my  Soul "  -  Geoffrey,  who  was  standing 
close  beside  me  with  his  arm  around  my  waist, 
singing,  too,  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  when  he  was 
sure  of  the  tune. 

"You  have  a  very  beautiful  voice,"  she  was 
kind  enough  to  say.  "Did  Mr.  Merion  ever  tell 
you  so?" 

"He  said  it  was  clear  and  true,  and  that  it  was 
a  pity  it  could  not  be  cultivated ;  he  meant  that  I 
needed  to  know  how  to  sing  notes  properly.  He 


SANDPEEP  63 

could  not  sing  himself,  but  only  played  a  little  on 
the  instrument,  so  you  see  he  couldn't  teach  me." 

"I  see,"  she  said,  and  her  eyes  twinkled. 
"When  this  piano  is  moved  to  your  room,  you 
must  practice  whenever  you  have  time.  You 
need  not  be  afraid  of  disturbing  anyone  up  in 
your  tower- top;  no  one  will  hear  you." 

There,  I  must  stop  writing,  for  1  hear  Geoffrey 
screaming  like  a  wild  Indian  down  in  his  room, 
which  is  just  under  mine.  I  left  him  with  Janet, 
but  she  just  lets  him  stamp  and  scream  until  he 
gets  tired. 


CHAPTER  VI 

T<HREE  whole  weeks  since  I  told  anything  to 
my  dear  little  secret-keeping  book,  and 
I  intended  to  tell  it  something  every  day! 
But  teaching  and  looking  after  a  live  whirlwind 
don't  leave  much  time  for  more  agreeable  occu- 
pations. Besides,  in  the  evening,  when  Geoffrey 
is  with  Janet,  I  get  so  interested  in  the  book  I 
am  reading,  I  forget  all  about  my  diary.  Some- 
times I  forget  even  to  go  to  bed  until  away  after 
nine  o'clock! 

What  wouldn't  aunt  say  if  she  knew  I  sat  up 
so  late?  I  don't  get  any  time  to  write  at  home, 
for  after  I  have  done  my  Saturday's  work,  tidying 
up  for  aunt,  and  after  meeting  is  out  on  Sun- 
day, I  have  to  talk  to  aunt  and  the  neighbors, 
who  want  to  know  all  about  everything  at  the 
Lodge. 

But  I  must  write  some  to-day,  though  my  arm 
pains  so  I  can  hardly  hold  the  pen,  or  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  catch  up. 

This  morning,  after  Geoffrey  had  said  his  les- 
sons, very  nicely  for  him,  we  started  out  for  a 
long  walk.  The  ladies  had  gone  to  drive,  and 
as  I  had  not  been  told  I  must  not  take  the  boy 
outside  the  gates,  I  thought  there  could  be  no 

64 


"  The  tide  was  out,  and  Geoffrey  was  delighted  with  the  pools 
among  the  rocks."     PAGE  65 


SANDPEEP  65 

harm  in  doing  so,  even  if  I  hadn't  asked  Miss 
Warrington's  permission. 

Though  the  fog  is  thick  as  mustard  now,  the 
morning  was  clear  and  sunshiny,  and  only  the 
low  gray  bank  out  along  the  eastern  horizon  told 
that  a  change  of  wind  would  bring  a  heavy  mist 
inshore. 

"If  it  does  come  in,"  I  said  to  myself,  as  we 
walked  through  the  gateway  to  the  road  outside, 
"a  little  wet  won't  hurt  a  strong,  healthy  boy  like 
Geoffrey." 

So  we  went  on  toward  the  shore.  We  had  a 
merry  scramble  down  the  steep  bank  from  the 
road,  sliding  with  the  loose  rocks  and  earth; 
tearing  our  way  through  tangled  vines  and  low- 
growing  bushes. 

The  tide  was  out,  and  Geoffrey  was  delighted 
with  the  pools  among  the  rocks,  and  the  sea- 
creatures  in  them.  I  thought  he  would  never  get 
done  exclaiming  over  the  barnacles,  winkles,  and 
star-fish. 

I  got  tired  after  a  while  from  climbing  over  the 
slippery  wrack,  and  sat  down  on  a  drift-log.  I 
didn't  think  any  harm  could  come  to  the  boy  if 
I  let  go  his  hand  for  a  few  minutes,  where  there 
wasn't  a  sight  of  living  thing  out  of  the  water 
but  ourselves,  and  no  sound  but  the  whistling  of 
the  buoy  out  on  the  ledges,  the  swash  of  waves 
against  the  cliff,  and  the  singing  wind  among  the 
trees. 


66  SANDPEEP 

I  kept  my  eyes  on  Geoffrey  for  a  little  while; 
then  let  them  stray  seaward,  where  the  fog-bank 
had  already  hidden  the  lighthouse  on  Baker's. 
A  fishing  vessel  was  tacking  for  safe  anchorage  in 
the  "pool"  before  the  fog  should  overtake  her, 
and  I  fell  to  wondering  how  many  barrels  of  cod 
she  had  brought  from  the  Banks  to  lower  her 
gunnels  so  near  to  the  water,  and  how  much 
money  the  catch  would  bring  her  owner.  I  for- 
got all  about  Geoffrey,  until  I  was  startled  by 
hearing  him  talk  in  a  loud,  excited  voice.  He 
wasn't  in  sight,  but  Jiis  voice  came  from  the  far- 
ther side  of  the  rocky  point,  just  a  few  yards  from 
where  I  was  sitting.  I  was  scared,  sure  enough! 

I  scrambled  fast  as  I  could  over  the  wrack- 
covered  rocks,  and  was  more  than  surprised 
when  I  saw  that  the  boy  was  talking  French,  as 
always  when  he  is  excited  or  angry,  to  a  strange 
man  with  a  heavy  black  beard  that  almost  cov- 
ered his  face. 

Geoffrey  said  something  in  French  to  me,  and 
when  I  told  him  to  speak  English,  the  man 
explained : 

"The  little  boy  says  he  wishes  to  go  with  me 
to  see  my  pony,  miss.  I  will  take  good  care  of 
him,  and  bring  him  back  in  a  little  while."  He 
took  hold  of  Geoffrey's  hand,  but  I  caught  the 
other  and  said  as  politely  as  I  could  speak:  "I 
can't  allow  you  to  take  him  away  from  me,  sir. 
I  am  not  allowed  to  lose  sight  of  him."  My  soul 


SANDPEEP  67 

and  body !  but  I  was  scared,  when  he  put  his  hand 
behind  him,  under  his  coat,  and  then  pointed 
a  pistol  straight  at  me.  The  muzzle  was  almost 
against  my  breast. 

"The  boy  is  coming  with  me,  young  lady. 
You  had  better  not  try  to  stop  him." 

The  man's  face  said  a  good  deal  more  than  his 
words  —  that  he  would  really  and  truly  shoot 
me  if  I  tried  to  hinder  Geoffrey  from  going  with 
him. 

Yet,  I  had  promised  to  take  good  care  of  my 
little  charge  and  never  to  let  him  go  out  of  my 
sight;  so  I  said,  making  a  move  toward  the  bank: 
"Very  well,  sir!  then  I  will  go  with  you,  too." 
But  the  man  held  back;  his  dark  face  looked 
darker,  and  he  said,  angrily: 

"I  don't  want  you  —  only  the  boy,  so  stop 
your — "  he  said  a  swear  word  here  —  "fooling, 
or — "  Though  he  didn't  say  what  he  would 
do,  I  knew  what  that  "or"  meant,  when  he  raised 
the  pistol  a  little  higher  and  drew  back  the  little 
hammer  on  top. 

I  was  nearly  out  of  my  mind.  I  looked  up 
toward  the  road  and  out  toward  the  sea,  but  all 
around  was  thick,  heavy  fog.  No  one  at  the 
Lodge  could  hear  me  if  I  screamed;  there  was 
nothing  I  could  "do!  Yes,  there  was  something, 
the  only  thing,  and  I  did  it.  I  didn't  stop  to 
think  what  might  happen  if  I  failed.  I  jumped 
suddenly  forward,  snatched  the  pistol  from  the 


68  SANDPEEP 

man's  hand,  and,  though  it  went  off,  and  a  sharp 
sting  on  my  arm  told  me  the  ball  had  scratched 
it,  I  turned  the  muzzle  toward  his  breast  and  at 
the  same  time  stepped  back  far  enough  so  that 
he  couldn't  play  the  same  game  on  me.  Good 
gracious,  how  he  swore!  A  "blue  streak,"  as 
Zemro  says.  Then  he  laughed,  and  said: 

"  You're  a  — "  swear  word  —  "  brave  wench,  I 
must  say!  I  suppose  you'll  shoot  me,  if  I  try  to 
take  the  boy  now?" 

"Yes,  sir!  So  you'd  better  clear  out,  just  as 
fast  as  you  can." 

I  answered  boldly  enough,  but  I  was  just  shiv- 
ering with  fear,  lest  he  might  refuse  to  go.  I 
couldn't  have  shot  off  the  pistol;  for,  though 
I  have  seen  Mr.  Merion  shoot,  I  never  imagined 
I  should  ever  want  to  know  how.  However, 
the  man  swore  again,  dropped  Geoffrey's  hand, 
and  vanished  into  the  fog. 

I  waited  until  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  upon 
the  road  died  away,  then  I  let  the  hand  in 
which  I  held  the  pistol  sink  to  my  side,  and  I 
dropped  down  on  a  rock  and  began  to  cry  like 
a  baby.  Geoffrey,  who  had  been  staring  won- 
deringly  all  the  while,  first  at  the  man,  then  at 
me,  flung  himself  down  beside  me,  put  his  arm 
around  my  neck,  and  cried  too,  so  loudly  that 
neither  of  us  heard  the  gentleman  who  came 
down  the  bank,  until  his  voice  sounded  close 
beside  us: 


SANDPEEP  69 

"What  has  happened  here?  Who  fired  the 
shot  I  heard?" 

I  jumped  up,  but  before  I  could  .speak  —  I 
was  so  dreadfully  flustered  at  having  been  caught 
bawling  like  a  great  baby  that  I  hardly  knew 
what  to  say  —  Geoffrey  began  to  chatter  ex- 
citedly in  French,  which  the  gentleman  under- 
stood, for  he  interrupted  impatiently: 

"What  nonsense  are  you  telling  me?"  Then 
to  me  —  "What  is  this  ridiculous  tale  about  a 
man  shooting  you?" 

As  well  as  I  could,  I  told  just  what  had  hap- 
pened. 

"You  surely  don't  expect  me  to  believe  that 
you  seized  a  cocked  revolver  from  the  ruffian?" 
he  asked,  looking  at  me  in  a  way  that  vexed  me. 

"I  don't  expect  you  to  believe  anything  you 
don't  want  to  believe,  sir,"  I  answered  shortly. 
"I  only  tell  you  what  happened;  I  snatched 
the  pistol,  as  I  told  you,  because  I  couldn't 
think  of  any  other  way  to  hinder  the  man 
from  taking  Geoffrey  away.  That's  all  there  is 
to  it!" 

"And  it  seems  to  have  been  quite  enough!"  he 
added,  a  smile  showing  for  a  second  under  his 
heavy  moustache.  "It  was  a  very  brave,  but  a 
most  daring,  and  —  I  must  say  it  —  foolhardy 
act.  You  say  the  pistol  went  off  when  you  seized 
it;  you  were  lucky  to  escape  a  severe  wound,  if 
nothing  worse!" 


70  SANDPEEP 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  answered.  I  didn't  think  it  worth 
while  to  mention  the  scratch  on  my  arm,  which 
hurt  right  smartly  by  that  time. 

From  the  road  above,  someone  called: 

"Halloo,  Warrington!  Has  anything  happened 
down  there?" 

"No!  no!"  answered  the  gentleman,  who,  I  had 
guessed,  must  be  one  of  the  Lodge  folks.  "Drive 
on  to  the  house;  I  will  come  in  a  few  minutes." 

"It's  all  very  well  to  say  'drive  on,'"  called 
the  man  on  the  road,  "but  how  am  I  to  know 
which  way  to  drive?  I  can't  see  ten  feet  from 
my  nose  in  this  beastly  fog." 

"Then  wait  where  you  are  until  I  come," 
answered  Mr.  Warrington.  Then  he  laid  his 
hand  on  Geoffrey's  shoulder,  and  said  to  me: 
"As  this  is  my  son,  I  think  you  must  be  his 
governess.  Are  you?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  am  —  Miss  Brenson." 

I  came  very  near  saying  "Keren  Brenson,"  but 
prevented  myself  in  time  from  making  that 
mistake  again;  I  am  learning  rusticator  ways 
gradually.  He  lifted  his  hat,  then  said: 

"If  you  have  quite  recovered  from  your  agita- 
tion, we  will  go  to  the  house.  Come  with  me, 
Geoffrey."  He  took  the  boy's  hand,  and  turned 
toward  the  bank,  but  I  made  no  move  to  follow. 
I  said: 

"Please,  Mr.  Warrington,  let  me  stop  here  a 
little  while  longer." 


SANDPEEP  71 

He  turned  and  looked  sharply  at  me. 

"Why  do  you  wish  to  remain  here?"  he  asked, 
as  if  he  thought  I  was  up  to  something.  "Aren't 
you  afraid  that  tramp  might  return?" 

I  have  heard  the  Cove  folks  talk  about  tramps, 
but  I  never  saw  one,  so  I  said: 

"Was  that  a  tramp?  I  thought  tramps  were 
very  poor,  and  wore  ragged  clothes.  This  one 
was  dressed  very  nicely,  and  didn't  look  poor  or 
hungry.  And  now  that  it  is  all  over,  I  don't 
believe  he  would  have  shot  me  even  if  I  hadn't 
let  him  take  Geoffrey." 

"What  he  would  have  done  I  am  unable  to 
say,"  Mr.  Warrington  answered.  "Would  you 
have  shot  him,  if  he  had  refused  to  go  away 
without  the  boy?" 

"I  guess  I  would  have  tried  to,"  I  answered, 
"though  I  haven't  the  least  idea  what  to  do  to 
a  pistol  to  make  it  go  off." 

The  smile  showed  again  under  his  moustache. 
He  said:  "I  shall  have  to  teach  you  how  to 
use  one;  then  if  the  tramp  should  attempt  to 
molest  you  again,  you  will  be  able  to  defend 
yourself." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  I  answered  quickly,  "I 
don't  think  I  want  to  learn.  I  am  too  scared 
of  a  pistol.  Besides,  I  don't  intend  to  give  the 
tramp  another  chance  to  run  away  with  your 
boy,  and  I  know  he  doesn't  want  to  run  away 
with  me,  for  he  said  so." 


72  SANDPEEP 

Mr.  Warrington  certainly  is  a  very  pleasant 
gentleman  —  he  smiles  at  everything  I  say.  His 
eyes  twinkled  exactly  like  Miss  Warrington' s  when 
he  said: 

"I  am  gratified  to  know  that  Geoffrey  is  in 
such  safe  hands,  Miss  Brenson;  I  am  not  so 
certain,  though,  that  the  tramp  would  not  run 
away  with  you  —  if  he  got  the  chance!  There- 
fore, I  must  insist  that  you  come  with  me  to  the 
house." 

Though  I  wanted  to  stay  where  I  was,  to  look 
at  my  hurt  arm,  I  thought  I  ought  to  obey  the 
man  I  was  working  for;  so  I  followed  him  and 
Geoffrey  up  to  the  road,  where  the  buggy  was 
waiting.  The  good-looking  young  gentleman 
lolling  back  on  the  seat,  sat  up  suddenly  when 
he  saw  us,  pulled  his  hat  on  straight,  and  put 
his  hand  to  his  necktie,  to  feel  if  it  was  in  the 
right  place,  just  as  fussy  about  his  looks  as  a 
girl  would  have  been. 

"What  happened?  Who  fired  that  shot?"  he 
asked  Mr.  Warrington,  though  he  kept  staring  at 
me  so  that  I  felt  my  face  get  red. 

"  A  pistol  in  this  young  lady's  hand  went  off  by 
accident.  Mr.  Fairboro,  Miss  Brenson." 

When  Mr.  Warrington  introduced  us,  Mr. 
Fairboro  took  off  his  hat  and  made  a  very  polite 
bow.  I  was  going  to  make  one,  too,  when  I  re- 
membered what  Miss  Warrington  had  told  me; 
so,  as  I  didn't  know  just  what  to  do,  I  stood 


SANDPEEP  73 

there  like  a  gump,  until  Mr.  Warrington  said: 
"You  had  better  take  Geoffrey  in  the  buggy 
with  you,  Miss  Brenson,  and  drive  on  to  the 
house.  Mr.  Fairboro  and  I  will  follow  on  foot." 

"I  don't  know  how  to  drive,  sir,"  I  answered, 
and  Mr.  Fairboro  said  quickly: 

"I  will  drive  Miss  Brenson  and  her  charge  to 
the  house.  There's  plenty  of  room  for  the  three 
of  us  here." 

"Very  well  —  if  you  think  now  that  you  can 
find  your  way  through  the  fog!"  Mr.  Warrington 
said,  and  laughed.  Then  he  lifted  Geoffrey  into 
the  buggy,  and  turned  to  help  me  in;  but  I  held 
back  and  said  I  would  rather  walk. 

"Then  drive  on,  Carrington,"  he  said  to  Mr. 
Fairboro,  who  didn't  look  at  all  pleased.  "I 
will  follow  with  Miss  Brenson.  Just  give  the 
mare  her  head  and  she  will  take  you  safely  to 
the  Lodge.  We  are  not  far  from  the  gate." 

The  buggy  started  forward  slowly  and  we 
followed.  After  we  had  walked  a  little  way,  Mr. 
Warrington  said: 

"Don't  speak  of  your  encounter  with  the  tramp 
to  anyone,  Miss  Brenson.  I  don't  want  my  aunt 
to  know  that  a  tramp  is  in  the  neighborhood." 

"You  don't  think  he  means  to  stop  here  all  the 
time,  do  you,  sir?" 

"There  is  no  telling  what  an  idle  fellow  like 
that  may  do.  He  may  linger  around  here  with 
the  hope  of  getting  back  his  pistol  — " 


74  SANDPEEP 

" There!"  I  interrupted,  and  stood  still,  "I  for- 
got all  about  the  pistol.  But  I  know  just  where  I 
dropped  it,  and  I'll  go  back  and  get  it  before  the 
tide  comes  in." 

"You  need  not  go  back;  here  it  is."  Mr. 
Warrington  took  the  pistol  from  his  pocket  and 
held  it  toward  me. 

"Oh!"  I  screamed,  and  jumped  away  from  the 
dreadful  thing;  "please  put  it  back  in  your 
pocket,  sir.  I  wouldn't  touch  it  again  for  the 
world!  If  I  should  see  the  tramp  again,  I  will 
tell  him  he  may  have  it  back  and  welcome." 

"Do,"  Mr.  Warrington  said,  and  put  the  pistol 
in  his  pocket,  "and  be  sure  to  tell  him  to  come  to 
me  for  it  — " 

He  was  going  to  say  something  more,  but  the 
sound  of  wheels  behind  us  made  him  turn. 

It  was  the  carriage  they  call  the  "victoria," 
with  the  two  ladies  from  the  Lodge  in  it.  Donald 
was  driving. 

"Why,  Brian!"  called  Mrs.  Warrington,  more 
pleased  than  I  have  seen  her  look  yet.  "Where 
do  you  come  from?" 

"From  the  Headlands,"  he  answered,  and 
stepped  up  to  the  victoria  to  shake  hands  with 
her. 

"Why  didn't  you  send  us  word  that  you  were 
coming,  and  we  would  have  sent  the  carriage  to 
meet  you?"  Miss  Warrington  asked. 

"When  Car,  who  is  in,  that  buggy  with  Geof- 


SANDPEEP  75 

frey,  and  I  left  New  York  on  Amberly's  yacht,  we 
had  no  idea  we  should  land  on  this  part  of  the 
coast  until  some  time  next  month;  but  an  acci- 
dent to  her  shaft  compelled  the  yacht  to  put  into 
the  nearest  port,  which  happened  to  be  the  Head- 
lands." 

He  must  have  noticed  how  Mrs.  Warrington 
kept  looking  from  him  to  me  as  if  she  were  won- 
dering how  I  came  to  be  with  him,  for  he  said: 
"We  came  up  with  Geoffrey  and  his  governess  a 
short  distance  down  the  road,  and  I  gave  up  my 
place  in  the  buggy  to  the  lad.  Now  tell  me  how 
you  have  been  getting  on  down  in  these  wilds, 
without  the  men  of  the  family  to  look  after  you?" 

I  did  not  hear  the  answer  to  the  question,  for 
I  slipped  into  the  bushes  by  the  roadside,  and 
made  my  way  through  them  to  the  gate. 


CHAPTER  VII 

1WAS  bathing  my  hurt  arm  —  which  is  a  good 
deal  swollen,  and  quite  red  —  when  the  buggy 
and  the  victoria  drove  up  to  the  steps  in  front 
of  the  house.  The  folks  stopped  to  talk  before 
coming  indoors,  and  I  could  hear  Mrs.  Warring- 
ton's  disagreeable  laugh  —  it  isn't  really  dis- 
agreeable, but  it  always  makes  me  think  of  my 
awkward  tumble  from  the  hen-cart  —  and  Mr. 
Fairboro's  voice.  He  has  the  pleasantest  sound- 
ing man's  voice  I  ever  heard,  and  I  know  he  can 
sing. 

The  sleeve  of  my  frock  was  stiff  with  the  blood 
from  the  scratch,  and  there  is  a  jagged  tear  near 
the  elbow  where  the  bullet  went  out,  that  will  be 
hard  to  mend.  But  I  am  truly  thankful  the 
bullet  went  out  of  the  sleeve,  instead  of  into  my 
arm.  Arms  are  not  as  easily  mended  as  sleeves. 

I  was  examining  the  torn  sleeve,  when  Janet 
came  to  tell  me  that  Zemro  wanted  to  speak  to 
me  at  the  tower-door.  From  the  way  she  looked 
at  me,  I  know  she  thinks  Zem  is  my  fellow,  be- 
cause he  has  been  here  several  times  on  errands 
from  home.  I  wrapped  my  shawl  around  me, 
and  ran  down  the  winding  stairs  to  the  door  of 
the  tower,  and  found  Zem  sitting  on  the  railing  of 


SANDPEEP  77 

the  little  porch,  swinging  his  boots,  on  which  the 
dried  mud  was  thick,  backward  and  forward  as 
if  they  were  two  big  pendulums.  He  didn't  get 
down  from  the  railing,  or  take  off  his  hat;  he 
didn't  even  stop  swinging  his  feet,  only  said, 
"Hello,  Sandpeep!" 

"Anything  wrong  at  home?"  I  asked. 

"Hain't  nawthin'  wrong  with  Aunt  Hit. 
Louine's  not  feelin'  well 's  she  might." 

"Never  does,"  I  growled,  vexed  at  his  calling 
just  to  tell  me  that;  but  he  didn't  mind  my 
snappiness.  He  pushed  the  stem  of  timothy, 
which  he  was  using  as  a  toothpick,  between  his 
front  teeth  several  times  before  he  said:  "Be 
you  goin'  to  'Miry  Luscomb's  quiltin'-bee  th' 
safternoon?  Us  fellows  cal'late  to  go  to  'Miry's 
after  supper,  'n'  then  all  of  us  are  goin'  to  hang 
May-baskits." 

"No,  you  know  very  well  that  I  am  not  free  to 
do  as  I  like,  only  on  Saturdays  and  Sundays," 
I  answered. 

"Guess  you  could  git  leave  to  go  to  the  quiltin' 
ef  you  wanted,"  he  mumbled,  still  picking  his 
teeth. 

"Maybe  I  could;  but  I  don't  care  to  ask  for  a 
holiday,  just  to  help  'Mira  Luscomb  make  her 
quilt,"  I  snapped. 

"You  won't  want  to  go  anywheres  with  us 
Cove  folks  after  a  while.  Louine  'lows  you're 
gittin'  set  up,  livin'  with  rusticators." 


78  SANDPEEP 

"Louine's  a  silly  goose,  and  so  are  you  for  be- 
lieving everything  she  says.  You  just  tell  her  I 
said  so.  But  I  must  not  stop  here  quarrelling 
with  you,"  I  added,  afraid  some  one  might  see 
me  there  with  him.  "Come,  I'll  walk  a  little 
way  down  the  avenue  with  you." 

"Avy-noo!"  he  sniffed,  getting  down  from  the 
railing.  "This  here  road  hain't  any  diff'runt  from 
other  roads  es  /  kin  see.  Avy-noo,  huh!" 

"Seems  to  me  you  are  in  a  particularly  bad 
humor  to-day,  Zem,"  I  said,  looking  at  him  and 
laughing. 

"'N'  ef  I  be?  —  hain't  you  enough,  with  your 
book-talkin'  'n'  avynooin',  to  make  anybody  mad, 
I  want  to  know?  " 

"If  calling  things  by  their  proper  names,  Zem 
Haskell,  makes  you  mad,  then  you'd  better  not 
talk  to  me  any  more,  for  I  don't  intend  to  stop 
book-talking  to  please  you,  or  anybody  -else ;  and 
I  don't  see  that  you  have  any  call  to  find  fault 
with  me,  anyhow!" 

I  was  mad,  too,  and  let  him  see  that  I  was. 
He  picked  his  teeth  for  a  minute,  then  said: 

"No,  Sandpeep,  I  hain't  no  call  to  find  fault 
with  you.  I  lay  all  the  blame  on  these  rustica- 
tors,  condemn  'em!  —  'n'  there's  one  of  'em  now," 
he  added,  scowling  at  Mr.  Warrington,  who  just 
then  came  down  the  road  which  leads  from  the 
stables  to  the  avenue.  As  he  passed  us,  he  lifted 
his  hat  to  me,  and  looked  sharply  at  Zemro. 


SANDPEEP  79 

"That  is  Mr.  Warrington,"  I  whispered.  "He 
and  another  gentleman  came  this  morning." 

"Rusticators's  gittin'  thick's  blueb'r'ies  in  a 
burnt  clearin',''  he  grumbled,  and  looked  black 
as  a  thunder-cloud.  "What  the  tarnation  fetches 
'em  snoop-cattin'  'round  here,  I  d'no',  'm  sure. 
'Pears  to  me  like  its  disrespectable  for  folks  to 
be  croosin'  'round  where  they  hain't  any  business 
—  'n'  Louine  says  so,  too;  'n'  she  says  you  hed 
ought  to  come  home,  'stid  of  livin'  to  the  Lodge. 
Aunt  Hit's  too  old  to  stay  by  herself,  'n'  she's 
pow'ful  lonesome  'thout  you,  too." 

"It  would  be  very  strange  if  she  were  not  lone- 
some without  me,"  I  answered,  most  as  digni- 
fied as  Miss  Warrington.  "But  I  know  that 
she  would  be  the  last  person  to  want  me  to  leave 
here,  for  she  says  that  teaching  one  little  boy  is 
a  lot  easier,  and  pays  better,  than  catching  fish, 
and  lobstering — " 

"You  could  hev  the  summer  school,"  he  in- 
terrupted. 

"I  don't  want  it,"  I  snapped.  "I  am  going  to 
keep  the  good  chance  Dr.  Parke  got  for  me,  and 
if  you  and  Louine  don't  like  it,  you  may  lump  it, 
so  there!" 

I  turned,  and  walked  back  fast  as  I  could 
toward  the  house. 

It  is  real  mean  of  me  to  treat  Zemro  badly, 
after  all  that  he  has  done  for  aunt  and  me;  but 
he  ought  not  to  keep  telling  me  the  disagreeable 


8o  SANDPEEP 

things  his  sister  is  always  saying  about  me;  even 
her  name  acts  on  me  as  a  red-flannel  petticoat 
acts  on  Clancy's  turkey  gobbler. 

Mr.  Warrington  was  walking  so  slowly  up  the 
avenue  when  I  caught  up  with  him  that  it  looked 
as  if  he  were  waiting  for  me;  and  I  guess  he 
was,  for  he  asked  as  soon  as  I  got  near  enough 
to  hear  him: 

"Who  is  that  young  man,  Miss  Brenson?" 

"Zemro  Haskell,  a  neighbor  of  ours,  sir." 

"Ah!" 

The  way  he  said  that,  made  me  think  he  had 
imagined  Zem  might  be  somebody  else,  so  I 
asked  him,  in  a  joking  way,  if  he  thought  it  was 
another  tramp.  He  didn't  answer  my  question, 
or  smile,  only  asked,  very  soberly: 

"Is  Haskell  a  fisherman?" 

"Yes,  sir,  and  a  very  good  skipper,  too." 

"Does  he  own  a  seaworthy  boat?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  answered,  heartily,  for  I  knew 
what  I  was  talking  about;  "he  owns  one  of  the 
best  sloops  around  here  —  the  Keren.  She  was 
named  after  me."  A  little  smile  showed  under 
his  moustache  when  I  said  that.  "The  Keren" 
I  went  on  to  explain,  "used  to  belong  to  my 
father." 

"Ah?  I  want  to  engage  a  good  sailboat  for  a 
few  months;  do  you  think  your  friend  would  let 
me  have  the  Keren?" 

"Would  you  want  him  to  sail  her  for  you?" 


SANDPEEP  81 

"Certainly." 

"Then  I  know  you  can  get  the  sloop,"  I  an- 
swered; and  I  was  so  pleased  for  Zem  that  I 
showed  it  in  my  face. 

"You  seem  deeply  interested  in  the  young 
fisher,"  Mr.  Warrington  allowed. 

"I  am,  sir,"  I  answered  heartily;  "he  and  I 
have  been  good  friends  from  little  boy  and  girl. 
After  father  died,  I  had  to  fish  for  a  living,  and 
I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done  without 
Zem.  He  did  everything  he  could  to  help  me: 
sold  my  fish  to  the  trading  smack;  shared  his 
bait  with  me,  —  indeed,  I  can't  tell  you  every- 
thing he  did  for  me  and  aunt.  So,  why  shouldn't 
I  want  him  to  get  a  good  chance?" 

"Why  not,  indeed!  After  such  devotion,  your 
interest  in  the  gallant  young  man  is  only  natural." 

I  was  afraid  I  had  given  him  a  wrong  idea  of 
Zem's  real  character,  so  I  made  haste  to  explain: 

"Zemro  isn't  what  you  would  call  'gallant,' 
sir.  He  is  just  as  kind  as  he  can  be;  but  he  isn't 
at  all  like  —  like  city  gentlemen.  The  poor  boy 
has  hardly  any  book-learning." 

"That  does  not  prevent  him  from  being  an  able 
seaman,"  Mr.  Warrington  answered.  He  didn't 
speak  again  for  so  long  that  I  thought  he  had 
said  all  he  wanted  to  say  to  me,  and  I  was  mov- 
ing on  ahead,  when  he  asked  suddenly: 

"Can  you  describe  the  man  you  encountered 
on  the  shore?" 


82  SANDPEEP 

"He  isn't  as  tall  as  you,  sir,  but  heftier;  very 
dark  complexion;  black  eyes  and  hair;  a  black 
moustache,  and  a  bushy  black  beard." 

"Looks  like  a  foreigner,  does  he?" 

"I  don't  know  what  a  foreigner  looks  like,  for 
I  never  saw  one;  but  he  doesn't  look  the  least 
like  our  longshore  men.  Oh,  yes;  I  came  near 
forgetting;  he  has  a  red  scar  as  long  as  my  finger 
across  his  cheek,  just  under  the  left  eye." 

When  I  mentioned  the  scar,  I  noticed  that  Mr. 
Warrington's  eyebrows  came  suddenly  close  to- 
gether, and  made  a  deep  wrinkle  above  his  nose; 
but  he  spoke  in  the  same  quiet  voice  when  he 
said:  "Thank  you,  Miss  Brenson;  from  your 
description  I  should  recognize  the  fellow  if  I  saw 
him.  I  hope  you  will  remember  that  I  asked 
you  not  to  speak  of  the  tramp  to  anyone;  and 
try  to  hinder  Geoffrey  from  speaking  of  him. 
Remember,  also,  never  to  allow  your  pupil  to 
wander  out  of  your  sight  when  you  are  outdoors 
with  him." 

I  promised,  and  I  said  to  myself,  when  he 
started  on  ahead:  "You  just  better  believe  I 
won't  lose  sight  of  Mr.  Geoffrey  a  second  time! 
I'll  watch  him  as  a  hawk  does  a  little  chicken." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

1  HAVEN'T  been  able  to  hold  a  pen  in  my  hand 
for  three  days,  because  of  the  pain  in  my  arm; 
but  it  is  doing  nicely  now,  and  will,  so  the 
doctor  says,  soon  be  quite  healed. 

The  evening  after  my  encounter  with  the  tramp, 
I  was  on  the  balcony,  over  the  library  windows, 
listening  to  the  music  in  the  parlor.  Someone 
was  playing  the  piano,  and  never  would  I  have 
believed,  if  I  hadn't  heard  it  with  my  own  ears, 
that  such  perfectly  heavenly  music  could  come 
from  anything  but  the  angels'  harps  in  heaven. 
I  only  wish  I  hadn't  heard  something  else  besides 
the  music,  so  that  when  I  think  of  it  the  dis- 
agreeable thing  would  not  come  into  my  mind  at 
the  same  time. 

Janet  told  me  it  was  Mr.  Fairboro  who  played 
so  beautifully.  He  is  Mrs.  Warrington's  brother, 
for  which  I  am  real  sorry;  but  nice  men  don't 
always  have  nice  sisters,  as  Zemro! 

After  a  while  the  music  stopped,  but  I  waited 
to  hear  more,  though  my  arm  pained  dreadfully. 
Instead  of  the  piano,  however,  I  heard  Mr.  War- 
rington's voice  say  —  he  must  have  been  at  the 
open  window  just  underneath  me: 

"Yes,  I  dare  say  she  does;  she  would  be  a  sad 

83 


84  SANDPEEP 

dunce  if  she  did  not  know  enough  for  that.  I 
think,  as  Juliet  does,  that  she  is  entirely  too 
attractive.  You  and  I,  dear  aunt,  know  how 
much  unhappiness  a  pretty  face  can  cause  — 
what  a  lure  it  is  for  a  passionate  admirer  of 
beauty,  like  Carrington.  Believe  me,  an  older, 
or,  at  least,  a  less  attractive  person  would  be 
safer.  I  don't  believe  you  would  find  it  so  dif- 
ficult to  secure  just  what  we  require  in  New 
York." 

I  could  hear  Miss  Warrington  say  something, 
but  as  she  was  inside  the  library,  I  could  not  hear 
what  it  was.  I  never  once  thought  I  was  doing 
a  mean  thing  to  listen.  I  was  waiting  for  more 
music,  and  I  could  no  more  help  hearing  the 
voices  than  the  croaking  of  the  frogs  down  in 
the  marsh. 

"Lem  ought  to  have  known  better,"  Mr. 
Warrington  said  again.  "There  surely  must  be 
a  discreet  spinster  somewhere,  who  would  be 
willing,  for  sufficient  remuneration,  to  undertake 
the  troublesome  task.  Pardon  me,  I  didn't  hear 
you?  Yes,  she  may  be  wholly  without  guile,  as 
you  say,  but  I  don't  believe  there  exists  a  woman, 
young  or  old,  pretty  or  plain,  of  whatever  class 
or  condition,  so  innocent  or  ignorant,  but  would 
recognize  the  advantage  the  capture  of  a  man  like 
Car  would  be.  Pardon  the  slur  at  your  sex,  dear 
aunt,  you  must  remember  my  provocation!  Yes, 
I  may  be  mistaken.  I  hope  I  am.  I  will  wait  a 


SANDPEEP  85 

few  days,  and  observe  her.  I  am  very  keen  at 
reading  character  now !  —  and  if  Car  continues  to 
rave  about  her  incomparable  loveliness  and  she 
shows  signs  of  responding  to  his  admiration, 
which  he  takes  no  pains  to  conceal,  then  it  will 
be  time  enough  to  —  what  is  it,  James?  A  tele- 
gram?" 

Not  a  sound  except  frog-voices  for  a  few 
seconds;  then  Mr.  Warrington  went  on: 

"All  right,  James;  there  is  no  answer.  Pay 
the  messenger  who  brought  the  telegram  from 
the  Headlands.  Here,  aunt,  is  a  solution  to  our 
problem:  Jack  and  Alice  Helmsley  will  arrive 
to-morrow.  I  invited  them  to  stay  with  us  until 
their  cottage  at  North  Haven  is  ready.  You  re- 
member how  very  devoted  Carrington  was  to 
Alice  before  he  went  to  Japan?  The  old  flame 
may  rekindle  and  Car  may  recover  from  this 
sudden  attack  of  admiration  for  Geoffrey's  at- 
tractive governess — " 

He  had  been  talking  about  me  all  the  time! 
He  really  and  truly  believed  I  would  set  my  cap 
for  Mr.  Fairboro! 

I  had  a  mind  to  bundle  up  my  things,  and, 
though  it  was  nearly  nine  o'clock,  to  go  straight 
home,  and  let  Mr.  Warrington  get  an  ugly  old 
maid  to  teach  his  stupid  little  boy;  but  when 
I  was  back  in  my  pretty,  cozy  room  in  the 
tower-top,  I  changed  my  mind.  I  would  just 
stop  where  I  was,  and  show  Mr.  Warrington  that, 


86  SANDPEEP 

if  Mr.  Fairboro  did  think  me  pretty  —  which  I 
couldn't  help,  and  wouldn't  want  to! — I  shouldn't 
try  to  "capture"  him. 

I  know  too  well  when  I've  got  a  good  chance 
to  leave  it  in  a  huff,  just  because  folks  say  spite- 
ful things  about  me,  especially  if  they  aren't  true. 
My  arm,  and  troubling  over  what  Mr.  Warring- 
ton  had  said,  kept  me  awake  nearly  the  whole 
night.  I  could  hardly  comb  my  hair,  next 
morning,  my  arm  was  so  stiff  and  sore;  but  I 
managed  to  dress  myself,  then  I  hurried  down  to 
Geoffrey's  room,  as  usual,  to  take  him  with  me 
to  breakfast.  Janet  met  me  at  the  door,  and 
whispered:  "Master  Geoffrey  has  just  gone  to 
sleep.  He  has  been  turning  and  twisting  all 
night  long,  and  talking  wild-like.  I  am  afraid 
he  has  a  fever;  his  head  and  hands  are  hot  as 
fire."  I  was  scared,  too,  when  I  saw  how  red  his 
face  was.  He  was  breathing  with  a  strange, 
wheezing  noise  in  his  throat. 

"I  am  dreadfully  afraid  he  is  going  to  be  sick," 
Janet  whispered  again.  "I  think  we  had  better 
let  him  sleep;  I  can  bring  him  some  breakfast 
when  he  wakens." 

"Have  you  told  Miss  Warrington?"  I  asked. 

"No,  Miss!  I  hadn't  a  chance  to  tell  her;  she 
and  all  the  rest  of  the  family  had  an  early  break- 
fast, and  have  gone  to  the  Headlands  to  meet 
some  friends  who  are  coming  here  to  visit,  so 
James  told  me." 


SANDPEEP  87 

I  thought  a  moment,  then  said: 

"Well,  let  him  sleep!  That  is  all  we  can  do 
until  Miss  Warrington  comes  back.  I  will  hurry 
through  my  breakfast,  then  I  will  sit  by  the  poor 
little  fellow.  I  guess  we  sha'n't  have  lessons  to- 
day." 

Mr.  Warrington  hadn't  gone  to  the  Headlands: 
he  was  at  breakfast  when  I  went  into  the  dining- 
room.  He  hardly  looked  up  from  his  newspaper 
long  enough  to  say  "  Good-morning,"  and  never 
even  noticed  that  Geoffrey  wasn't  with  me. 
Once  or  twice  I  was  going  to  tell  him  about  the 
boy,  but  his  face  was  hidden  behind  the  news- 
paper and  his  whole  self  looked  as  if  he  didn't 
want  to  be  talked  to;  so  I  really  hadn't  the 
courage  to  speak.  I  was  trying  awkwardly  to 
cut  my  steak  with  my  left  hand,  when  I  was 
dreadfully  scared  to  hear  Mr.  Warrington  say: 

"Your  arm  was  hurt  yesterday,  I  see." 

"It  is  only  a  little  scratch,"  I  answered,  laying 
my  knife  and  fork  on  my  plate. 

"I  thought  it  very  strange  when  you  told  me 
you  were  not  hurt,"  he  said,  and  looked  vexed. 
He  folded  the  newspaper,  laid  it  and  his  napkin 
on  the  table,  and  came  around  to  my  side.  "Let 
me  see  your  arm.  I  may  be  able  to  tell  you 
what  to  do  for  the  wound." 

"It  doesn't  need  anything,  sir,  thank  you 
kindly,"  I  said,  and  drew  away  from  him  as 
far  as  I  could,  "It  is  only  a  tiny  scratch." 


88  SANDPEEP 

"A  bullet- wound  is  always  of  more  or  less  con- 
sequence," he  interrupted;  and  he  took  hold  of 
my  wrist  with  one  hand,  and  tried  with  the  other 
to  push  back  the  sleeve.  I  was  feeling  thankful 
that  it  was  too  narrow  at  the  wrist  to  be  slipped 
over  the  handkerchief  I  had  wrapped  around  my 
arm,  when  he  took  a  knife  from  his  pocket,  and 
opened  the  little  blade. 

"Oh  —  please,  sir  —  don't  cut  the  sleeve,"  I 
exclaimed.  "I  have  no  more  stuff  to  make  a 
new  one." 

"I  will  rip  the  seam;"  and  he  did  so,  as  neatly 
as  I  could  have  done  it  myself.  I  watched  the 
keen  knife-blade  —  no  keener  than  the  gray-blue 
eyes  fixed  on  it  —  cut  slowly,  carefully,  through 
the  stitches,  until  enough  of  the  seam  had  been 
cut  to  allow  the  bandaged  arm  to  be  examined. 

"What  unpardonable  carelessness!"  he  ex- 
claimed, when  he  saw  the  inflamed  gash  in  the 
swollen  arm.  "Why  didn't  you  tell  me  about 
this  yesterday?" 

"I  —  I  didn't  think  —  such  a  little  scratch  was 
worth  fussing  over,"  I  answered,  near  to  crying, 
he  was  so  cross. 

"You  will  find  some  ' fussing'  necessary  before 
the  wound  heals,  or  I  am  much  mistaken.  It 
will  be  impossible  now  to  keep  my  aunt  in  ig- 
norance of  what  happened  on  the  beach.  It  is 
most  vexatious!" 

He  leaned  forward  and  pressed  the  bell,  and 


SANDPEEP  89 

when  James  came  in  —  I  don't  wonder  the  man 
forgot  his  dignity  and  stared  —  ordered  him  to 
send  one  of  the  stablemen  to  the  Headlands  at 
once  for  a  doctor. 

"No,  James,  you  needn't  send  for  the  doc- 
tor," I  began,  but  Mr.  Warrington  interrupted, 
very  shortly:  "Do  as  I  bid  you,  James,"  and 
when  the  man  was  gone,  he  said  to  me: 

"I  do  not  permit  anyone  to  countermand  an 
order  I  give  my  servants,  Miss  Brenson." 

Gracious!  but  he  looked  mad!  I  had  the  cour- 
age to  say  —  knowing  what  doctors  cost  gave  it 
to  me  —  "I  —  I  certainly  have  a  right  to  say  if 
I  will,  or  will  not  have  a  doctor." 

"You  certainly  have  a  right  to  refuse  to  see  him 
when  he  comes.  I  have  no  desire  to  force  you  to 
be  careful  of  a  wound  that  you  ignorantly  imagine 
to  be  of  no  consequence.  It  might  not  have  been 
if  it  had  been  properly  attended  to  yesterday; 
but  the  coloring  matter  of  the  sleeve  has  poisoned 
it,  and  your  obstinacy  may  result  seriously." 

He  got  up,  and,  without  another  word,  went 
back  to  his  chair  and  took  up  the  newspaper. 
Not  even  when  I  was  leaving  the  table,  after 
having  eaten  only  a  single  biscuit,  did  he  give 
a  sign  that  he  knew  such  a  person  as  Keren 
Happuch  Brenson  was  near  him. 

After  breakfast,  he  rode  away  on  his  beautiful 
horse,  to  meet  the  company  coming  from  the 
Headlands,  Janet  told  me. 


go  SANDPEEP 

The  steamboat  was  very  late,  owing  to  the  fog, 
so  none  of  the  family  was  at  home  when  Dr. 
Morton  arrived.  I  was  thankful  on  Geoffrey's 
account  that  he  had  been  sent  for;  and  I  guess 
if  Mr.  Warrington  could  have  seen  how  meekly 
I  allowed  my  arm  to  be  tended  to,  he  wouldn't 
think  me  stubborn. 


CHAPTER   DC 

MISS  WARRINGTON  certainly  would  have 
found  out  that  I  had  a  sore  arm,  if  the 
company,  and  Geoffrey,  who  had  taken 
a  bad  cold,  had  not  given  her  so  much  else 
to  think  about.  I  was  thankful  I  didn't  have  to 
explain,  for  I  don't  want  to  offend  Mr.  Warrington 
more  than  I  have  already,  though  I  can't  help 
being " ignorant"  and  "attractive"  anymore  than 
he  can  help  being  cross  and  disagreeable. 

The  third  day  after  my  fuss  with  the  tramp, 
I  was  sitting  beside  Geoffrey's  bed,  trying  to 
amuse  him  by  drawing  a  pony.  As  I  can't 
make  pictures  with  my  right  hand,  I  don't 
wonder  the  "pony"  I  drew  with  my  left  didn't 
please  the  impatient  little  sick  boy. 

"No  —  no  —  no!"  he  howled,  pushing  the 
sheet  of  paper  away  from  him,  and  kicking  with 
both  feet  under  the  bed-covers.  "I  want  a  right 
pony;  that  is  not  a  pony.  I  want  —  I  want  — " 

"The  moon,  the  stars,  the  earth,  and  all  that 
thereon  is!"  interrupted  a  laughing  voice  at  the 
door.  "Whatever  else  the  noisy  little  rascal 
lacks,  it  isn't  a  pair  of  strong,  healthy  lungs!" 

It  was  dear,  good  Dr.  Parke;  and  not  even 
the  sight  of  Mr.  Warrington' s  sober  face  —  I  had 


92  SANDPEEP 

not  seen  him  since  the  morning  he  ripped  my 
sleeve  —  hindered  me  from  saying  how  very  glad 
I  was. 

When  the  doctor  had  shaken  hands  with  me, 
Mr.  Warrington  said:  "I  will  leave  you  with 
your  patients,  Cousin  Lem;  when  you  have  done 
what  is  necessary  here,  come  to  the  library." 
He  didn't  speak  to  me,  or  look  toward  me.  I 
guess  Geoffrey  will  have  an  ugly  old  maid  for  a 
teacher  before  very  long! 

"So  far  as  I  am  able  to  judge  from  a  first 
glance,"  the  doctor  said,  after  Mr.  Warrington 
had  gone,  "my  services  are  not  required  here. 
You,  Miss  Keren  Happuch  Brenson,  I  hear  have 
been  distinguishing  yourself,  following  in  the  foot- 
steps of  your  brave  father.  How  is  the  wounded 
arm?" 

"It  is  healing  nicely,  Dr.  Morton  says — " 

"Then  you  let  the  Headlands  doctor  attend  to 
the  wound  after  all?"  he  interrupted.  "I  knew 
you  would!  I  knew  Peleg  Brenson' s  girl  had 
more  sense  than — "  He  stopped,  as  if  he  had 
been  going  to  say  something  he  ought  not,  and 
said  instead:  "I  was  afraid  I  should  find  you 
suffering  with  a  rather  serious  injury.  Of  course, 
you  did  not  dream  that  there  could  be  danger  in 
the  trifling  scratch,  or  you  would  not  have  been 
so  —  ahem!  Well,"  he  went  on  to  say,  after  he 
had  cleared  his  throat,  "I  will  take  a  look  at 
this  little  man,  though  I  don't  see  that  he  needs 


SANDPEEP  93 

me  any  more  than  you  do;  that  village  JSscula- 
pius  seems  to  know  his  business  pretty  well."  I 
thought  he  meant  Dr.  Morton,  though  I  wasn't 
sure,  for  I  didn't  know  what  an  ^Esculapius  was, 
or  how  to  spell  it,  until  I  hunted  it  up  in  the 
dictionary. 

I  expected  that  Geoffrey  would  kick  and 
scream  when  the  doctor  took  his  hand,  but  he 
didn't.  I  guess  if  he  is  "excessively  dull,"  as 
Mrs.  Warrington  says,  that  he  knows  a  good 
friend  as  well  as  I  do.  When  the  doctor  was 
leaving,  he  said  to  me  at  the  door,  too  low  for 
Geoffrey  to  hear : 

"  I  want  to  hear  all  about  your  adventure  on 
the  shore,  some  time." 

"Then  you  are  going  to  stop  here  a  while?"  I 
said. 

"Yes,  for  several  weeks." 

I  said  I  was  glad  to  hear  it,  and  asked  if  Mr. 
Warrington  hadn't  told  him  how  my  arm  got 
hurt. 

"Only  that  the  pistol  you  seized  from  a  tramp 
went  off  by  accident.  That  was  a  daring  thing 
to  do,  my  girl;  and  I  want  to  hear  all  about  it 
from  your  own  lips.  You  know  I  take  a  deep 
interest  in  my  old  friend  Brenson's  daughter?" 

"Yes,  sir,  and  thank  you  kindly  for  it." 

I  wonder  if  he  noticed  that  I  didn't  make  a 
bow?  I  don't  think  I  am  as  polite  as  I  used  to 
be,  before  I  began  to  learn  rusticator  ways;  but 


94  SANDPEEP 

Miss  Warrington  certainly  knows  better  than  I 
do  what  is  the  fashion. 

The  doctor  had  walked  almost  to  the  turn  in 
the  hall,  when  he  stopped  and  came  back. 

"You  must  be  very  careful  not  to  mention  your 
adventure,"  he  whispered.  "Don't  speak  of  it 
to  anyone,  not  even  to  your  aunt." 

I  promised  I  wouldn't,  and  he  went  on  his  way. 

These  city  folks  certainly  are  very  queer.  After 
all,  a  tramp  is  only  a  man.  Why  Miss  Warring- 
ton  should  be  so  scared  when  there  are  people 
always  around,  I  can't  see.  But  then,  she,  and 
the  laughing  widow-woman,  and  the  new  young 
lady,  whose  name  is  Alice  Helmsley,  are  different 
in  every  way  from  us  longshore  folks. 

Miss  Helmsley  is  very  handsome,  with  lovely 
black  hair  and  blue  eyes,  and  she  dresses  beauti- 
fully. I  think  she  is  much  prettier  than  I  am, 
and  I  shouldn't  think  Mr.  Fairboro  would  have 
any  trouble  falling  back  in  love  with  her  —  that 
is,  if  he  has  really  fallen  out. 

On-  Saturday  there  was  no  one  to  drive  me 
home  in  the  cart,  as  the  second  coachman  had 
gone  home  to  New  York  to  see  his  sick  wife,  and 
Donald  had  driven  the  ladies  to  North  Haven. 
So,  after  I  had  had  my  dinner,  I  started  to  walk 
to  the  Cove. 

When  I  came  back  in  the  evening,  Janet,  with 
a  sly  wink,  said:  "Just  after  you  had  gone  this 
noon,  Miss,  Mr.  Fairboro  came  to  Master  Geof- 


SANDPEEP  95 

frey's  room  and  asked  for  you.  He  said  he  was 
going  to  North  Haven  and  would  take  great 
pleasure  in  driving  you  as  far  as  your  home. 
When  I  told  him  you  had  gone,  he  looked  so 
disappointed  I  was  real  sorry  for  him;  and  when 
I  saw  him  drive  away  afterward  with  the  ladies, 
I  said  to  myself:  'My  young  gentleman,  /  know 
who  you  would  rather  have  beside  you  than  Miss 
Helmsley!'" 

I  was  dreadfully  vexed  at  myself  for  getting  red 
in  the  face;  but  I  did  not  let  her  see  that  I  had 
noticed  her  sly  words. 

Janet  is  more  like  us  longshore  folks  than  like 
a  rusticator,  but  I  must  say  I  can't  get  intimate 
with  her.  I  think  I  prefer  Mrs.  Warrington's  crit- 
icising looks  and  laugh  to  Janet's  sly  hints  and 
winks. 

Well,  I  had  walked  about  a  mile  or  so  on 
Saturday,  when  I  heard  wheels  coming  behind 
me  and  stepped  to  one  side  of  the  road.  It 
was  the  Lodge  cart  and  Mr.  Warrington  was 
driving.  He  stopped  beside  me,  and  said,  just 
as  if  he  had  never  been  disagreeable  to  me: 

"I  am  going  to  Bunker's  Cove,  Miss  Brenson,  so 
you  may  as  well  ride  the  rest  of  the  way  with  me." 

He  leaned  over  the  side  of  the  cart  and  held 
out  his  hand  to  help  me  climb  up  to  the  seat;  but 
I  didn't  stir.  I  just  said:  "Thank  you  kindly, 
sir,  I  am  going  to  turn  into  the  short  cut  over  the 
hill  just  below  here." 


96  SANBPEEP 

"I  want  you  to  show  me  where  young  Haskell 
lives,"  he  interrupted,  in  his  short  way;  but  as  I 
really  did  not  want  to  ride  with  him,  I  said  again : 
"I  can  tell  Zemro  to  call  to  see  you  this  after- 
noon, sir;  so,  you  need  not  take  the  trouble  to 
go  to  the  Cove  — " 

I  stopped  suddenly  when  I  saw  his  eyebrows 
come  together,  and  remembered  what  he  had 
said  when  I  told  James  he  need  not  send  for  a 
doctor.  I  did  not  say  another  word,  but  let  him 
help  me  into  the  cart,  and  sat  there  beside 
him,  feeling  pretty  much  as  I  used  when  I  was 
a  little  girl  and  had  been  slapped  for  being  bad. 

"Haskell  lives  near  your  home,  doesn't  he?" 
Mr.  Warrington  asked  me  after  several  minutes. 

"Yes,  sir,  just  across  the  pasture  from  us.  His 
father  and  mine  used  to  —  Goodness!"  I  broke 
off  to  exclaim,  and  looked  back,  "there's  that 
tramp." 

Mr.  Warrington  stopped  the  horse,  and  looked 
back,  too.  "I  don't  see  anyone,"  he  said. 

"He  was  in  the  bushes,  stooping  down  as  if  he 
didn't  want  to  be  seen  —  just  there,  behind  that 
cat-spruce." 

He  turned  the  cart,  drove  back,  stopped  beside 
the  cat-spruce,  and  jumped  to  the  ground. 

"Hadn't  you  better  take  the  whip  with  you, 
sir?"  I  called  to  him,  when  he  started  into  the 
bushes.  But  he  paid  no  attention;  pushed  on 
into  the  thick  woods,  and  was  soon  out  of  sight. 


SANDPEEP  97 

Goodness!  but  I  was  scared.  He  was  gone  so 
long,  I  was  sure  something  dreadful  had  hap- 
pened. There  are  other  ways  of  hurting  folks 
than  by  shooting  them;  and  a  good  strong  pair 
of  fists  like  the  tramp's  could  do  a  lot  of  harm. 
I  got  so  nervous  that  I  could  not  sit  still  any 
longer,  and  was  going  to  jump  out  of  the  cart. 
What  I  intended  to  do,  I  haven't  the  least  idea, 
I'm  sure,  when  a  swishing  in  the  bushes  told  me 
someone  was  coming.  I  took  firm  hold  of  the 
reins,  and  determined  I  would  drive  somewhere, 
in  case  the  someone  turned  out  to  be  the  tramp. 
He  would  have  to  gallop  faster  than  a  horse 
driven  by  a  girl  scared  half  out  of  her  wits,  if 
he  wanted  to  catch  me!  I  can't  tell  how  relieved 
I  was  to  see  Mr.  Warrington  come  out  of  the 
woods  safe  and  sound.  He  didn't  say  anything 
until  we  were  driving  again  toward  the  Cove; 
then  he  said,  very  quietly: 

"You  were  mistaken,  as  I  thought.  I  could 
not  find  a  trace  of  living  creature  larger  than  a 
squirrel." 

I  know  that  tramp  was  hiding  somewhere  in 
the  woods,  but  I  said  nothing  more.  There  is  no 
use  "argufying,"  as  aunt  says,  with  a  person 
who  just  won't  believe  you. 

"Don't  you  occupy  the  room  in  the  tower- wing 
directly  over  Geoffrey's?"  Mr.  Warrington  asked 
suddenly,  after  we  had  driven  some  distance  with- 
out a  word  from  either  of  us. 


g8  SANDPEEP 

I  told  him  I  did,  and  then  he  asked  me  the 
strangest  question: 

"Are  you  afraid  of  dogs?" 

"Why,  no,  sir,"  I  answered,  "not  unless  they 
are  the  kind  that  bite." 

"I  think  I  will  buy  a  large  dog,  not  the  ' kind  that 
bites,'  for  Geoffrey.  All  boys  are  fond  of  dogs." 

"And  a  good  watch-dog  will  keep  tramps  away 
from  the  house,"  I  allowed. 

"Just  so;  and  that  you  may  feel  perfectly 
secure  in  the  tower  at  night,  the  dog  shall  sleep 
outside  Geoffrey's  door,  and  I  will  move  my 
sleeping  quarters  over  to  that  wing." 

Now,  while  I  shouldn't  mind  having  the  dog 
in  the  tower-wing,  I  should  certainly  not  like  hav- 
ing Mr.  Warrington  there,  for  the  piano  in  my 
room  might  disturb  him.  He  must  be  able  to 
read  in  a  body's  face  what  is  in  the  mind  back 
of  it,  for  he  said : 

"The  arrangement  does  not  seem  to  meet  your 
approval?" 

Of  course  I  couldn't  tell  the  owner  of  the 
Lodge  that  I  didn't  want  him  to  move  to  the 
tower-wing,  so  I  said: 

"It  isn't  for  the  teacher  of  your  son  to  say 
what  she  would  like  you  to  do  in  your  own 
house,  sir." 

He  looked  at  me  for  a  minute,  a  smile  twinkling 
in  his  eyes  —  he  looks  like  dear  Miss  Warrington, 
and  that  is  why  I  can't  help  liking  him  —  then  said : 


SANDPEEP  99 

"I  see  you  cherish  a  grudge  against  me  for 
sending  for  Dr.  Morton.  You  must  admit, 
though,  that  I  was  right.  A  doctor's  attention 
was  really  necessary." 

"Yes,  sir,  and  I  thank  you.  I  acted  like  a  silly 
child  that  morning,  because  I  wasn't  feeling  very 
friendly  toward  you." 

"Not  feeling  friendly  toward  me?"  he  re- 
peated; and  he  looked  surprised.  "And,  pray, 
what  reason  had  you  to  feel  unfriendly  toward 
me?" 

"Because  you  said  such  disagreeable  things 
about  me." 

"I  said  disagreeable  things  about  you?"  more 
surprised  than  before.  "I  have  no  recollection  of 
saying  anything  disagreeable  about  you.  What 
did  I  say?" 

My  face  was  red  as  fire  and  I  could  hardly 
stammer:  "I  was  on  the  balcony  over  the  library 
windows,  that  evening  after  my  fuss  with  the 
tramp,  listening  to  the  music  in  the  parlor,  and  I 
heard  you  talking  to  your  aunt.  I  hope  you 
won't  think  I  listened  on  purpose,  sir.  I  was 
waiting  to  hear  more  music.  Mr.  Warrington"  — 
and  I  looked  straight  into  his  eyes  —  "you  are 
mistaken  if  you  believe  I  would  set  my  cap  for 
Mr.  Fairboro  — " 

"You  surely  did  not  hear  me  say  I  believed 
you  would  set  your  cap  for  Mr.  Fairboro?"  he 
interrupted. 


ioo  SANDPEEP 

"Well,  that  is  what  you  meant,  and  I  don't 
want  you  to  think  it  of  me.  I  wouldn't  do  any- 
thing to  vex  you,  or  your  aunt."  It  was  dread- 
fully hard  to  say  what  I  did,  but  I  am  very  glad 
I  had  the  courage.  He  knows  now  that  I  am 
not  the  sort  of  girl  he  believed  me. 

"My  dear  Miss  Brenson,"  he  said,  after  a 
minute,  very  meekly,  "I  plead  guilty,  and  at  the 
same  time  beg  that  you  will  forgive,  and  forget, 
the  unkind  things  I  said  about  you.  Will  you?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  will,  if  you  won't  think  them  any 
more." 

"I  promise  you  I  will  not." 

"And  you  won't  get  an  ugly  old  maid  to  teach 
Geoffrey?" 

"Most  certainly  not!" 

Though  he  laughed,  I  could  see  that  he  meant 
what  he  said,  and  I  can't  say  how  thankful  I  am 
that  that  is  settled. 

We  did  not  speak  again  until  we  were  going 
down  the  last  hill,  this  side  of  the  Cove;  then  I 
pointed  toward  the  houses  on  the  shore,  and  said  : 

"That  is  Bunker's  Cove,  sir;  and  this"  — 
when  we  got  to  the  wood-road  —  "is  where  you 
turn  down  to  the  Cove." 

After  we  had  bumped  and  splashed  over  the 
rocks  and  puddles  in  the  wood-road  and  were 
crossing  the  pasture,  I  pointed  out  where  Zemro 
lived;  and  when  we  got  near  our  house,  I  was 
going  to  ask  him  to  stop,  but  before  I  said  a 


SANDPEEP  101 

word,  he  drew  rein  in  front  of  the  gate,  just  as  if 
he  knew  as  well  as  I  where  I  lived.  I  didn't 
wonder  over  it  at  the  time,  but  several  times  since 
it  has  puzzled  me. 

I  asked  aunt,  who  had  come  to  the  door,  if 
Zemro  was  at  home. 

"Zemro's  here,  'round  by  the  hen-pen,  shuckin' 
lobster,"  she  answered,  peering  at  Mr.  Warring- 
ton  from  under  the  hand  shading  her  eyes. 

I  jumped  down,  and  just  then  Zemro  came 
around  from  the  back  of  the  house.  When  he  saw 
who  was  with  me,  he  turned  to  go  back ;  but  I  called 
to  him  that  he  was  wanted.  For  a  minute  he 
acted  as  if  he  didn't  intend  to  speak  to  Mr.  War- 
rington ;  then  he  walked  ever  so  slowly  across  the 
door-yard,  and  stopped  inside  the  gate. 

"Wall,  here  I  be,  ef  anybody  wants  me,"  he 
said,  and  looked  just  as  stubborn  as  he  could.  I 
wanted  to  box  his  ears! 

"Mr.  Warrington  wants  to  hire  the  sloop,"  I 
explained,  so  ashamed  of  his  rudeness.  "I  told 
him  you  would  be  very  glad  to  get  the  chance, 
now  that  mackerel  are  so  scarce." 

"Cod  'n'  hake  ain't  scurse,  nur  lobster,"  he  al- 
lowed, breaking  a  stem  of  sou  them- wood  from 
the  bush  beside  him,  and  stripping  the  leaves 
from  it. 

"Does  anyone  else  in  the  neighborhood  own  a 
good  sailboat?"  Mr.  Warrington  asked  sharply. 
I  could  see  that  he  was  disgusted  with  Zem 


102  SANDPEEP 

"Hain't  any  bo't  this  side  the  Headlands  good  's 
the  Keren,"  the  Keren's  owner  answered,  tossing 
up  and  catching  in  his  hand  again  the  southern- 
wood leaves. 

"Well,  is  the  Keren  for  hire  or  not?" 

Zem  flung  the  southern-wood  leaves  away,  and 
broke  off  a  stem  of  hardhack,  and  picked  his 
teeth  with  the  end  of  it  for  several  seconds  be- 
fore he  answered: 

"I  hedn't  cal'lated  to  hire  her—" 

"Now,  Zem  Haskell,"  I  interrupted,  all  out  of 
patience,  "what  is  the  use  of  your  talking  so? 
You  know  very  well  you  have  been  wanting  for 
ever  so  long  to  get  a  steady  chance." 

"Hain't  said  I  don't  want  one  now,  es  I  know," 
he  mumbled,  with  the  hardhack  stem  between  his 
teeth.  "He,"  nodding  his  head  toward  the  cart, 
"hain't  said  es  he  wants  to  hire  me,  only  my  b'ot." 

I  just  know  that  if  Mr.  Warrington  did  not  feel 
friendly  toward  me,  he  would  not  have  stopped 
there  another  minute. 

"If  I  can  engage  your  boat,  and  you  to  sail 
her,"  he  said  quietly,  but  I  could  see  that  he 
wasn't  going  to  stand  much  more  nonsense,  "I 
will  do  so,  solely  on  Miss  Brenson's  recom- 
mendation, you  understand?" 

"Yaas,  I  understand,"  Zem  answered  sullenly. 
"Ef  I  take  the  chance,  shell  I  hev  to  stop  to  the 
Lodge,  too,  same  es  Sandpeep,  I  mean  Miss 
Brenson?" 


SANDPEEP  103 

"No;  your  time  will  be  your  own  when  I  don't 
want  to  use  your  boat;  I  will  send  you  word 
when  I  want  it." 

"Wall,"  Zem  allowed,  as  if  he  were  doing  Mr. 
Warrington  a  favor  instead  of  receiving  one, 
"guess  I  might's  well  say  I'll  take  the  chance, 
for  a  while  anyhow.  What' 11  you  pay  me?" 

"Whatever  is  usually  paid  for  such  service. 
We  will  arrange  about  that  the  first  day  I  go 
sailing  with  you,  but  you  may  consider  yourself 
and  your  sloop  engaged  from  next  Monday." 

"We'll  call  it  a  bargain,"  Zem  agreed.  "I'll 
begin  the  job  by  kerryin'  you  back  to  the  Lodge 
Monday  mornin',  Sandpeep." 

"I  am  going  back  to-day,"  I  answered  shortly. 

"To-day?  'N'  who'll  play  the  instrument  't 
meetin'  to-morrow,  ef  you  ain't  there  to  play  it, 
I  want  to  know?" 

Before  I  could  answer,  Mr.  Warrington  said : 

"You  need  not  return  to  the  Lodge  to-day, 
Miss  Brenson.  Janet  can  take  care  of  Geoffrey." 

I  wasn't  going  to  tell  him  my  real  reason  for 
wanting  to  go  right  back,  so  I  said : 

"I  think  I  had  better  go,  sir,  since  Geoffrey  is 
sick.  So  will  you  kindly  wait  a  few  minutes  until 
I  speak  to  aunt,  and  I'll  go  right  back  with  you, 
—  if  you  don't  mind." 

"I  am  going  to  North  Haven  before  I  return  to 
the  Lodge,  but  I  will  stop  for  you  —  say,  in  two 
hours." 


104  SANDPEEP 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

He  lifted  his  hat  to  me,  and  was  turning  away, 
when  aunt,  who  had  been  coming  slowly  across 
the  door-yard,  peering  at  Mr.  Warrington  from 
under  her  hand,  called  to  him: 

"Wait  a  minit,  mister." 

He  turned  back,  and  lifted  his  hat  to  her. 
What  a  difference  there  is  between  him  and 
Zem! 

"'Pears  ef  I  hed  seen  you  afore,  mister,"  aunt 
said  to  him. 

"That  is  likely,  Miss  Brenson:  I  have  been  in 
this  neighborhood  before." 

"You  wa'n't  never 'round  sellin'sewin'-machines 
'n'  lightin'-rods,  was  you?" 

"Aunt,"  I  interrupted,  and  I  caught  hold  of 
her  arm,  "this  is  Mr.  Warrington,  the  father  of 
the  little  boy  I  am  teaching." 

"Oh,  neighbor  Warrin'ton?"  and  she  smiled 
all  over  her  wrinkled  face.  "I'm  right  pleased 
to  meet  you,  neighbor  Warrin'ton;  you  ain't  goin' 
away  'thout  comin'  in  to  call,  be  you?" 

"Mr.  Warrington  is  going  to  North  Haven, 
aunt,"  I  explained,  ashamed  for  her.  The  poor 
old  dear  hasn't  found  out  yet,  as  I  have,  that 
there's  a  big  difference  between  rusticators  and 
us  longshore  folks. 

"Goin'  to  North  Haven,  be  you?  Wall,  then, 
call  in  some  time  again.  Good-day,  neighbor 
Warrin'ton." 


SANDPEEP  105 

He  thanked  her  politely  for  the  invitation, 
lifted  his  hat,  then  drove  away. 

"I  disremember  jes'  when  I  see  him  afore," 
aunt  said,  as  we  three  stood  at  the  gate  looking 
after  the  cart,  "but  I  knowed  I  hed  seen  him  the 
minit  I  laid  eyes  on  him,  'n'  thought  he  was  one 
of  them  peddlers  thet  kin  talk  's  ef  their  tongues 
was  hung  in  the  middle." 

"He  makes  me  think  of  someone,  too,  but  I 
can't  think  who,"  I  allowed;  and  Zemro  growled: 

"Rusticators  all  look  alike,  allus  dressed  up  in 
their  meetin'  close.  Ef  you  are  sot  on  goin'  back 
to  the  Lodge  th'  safternoon,  Sandpeep,  you  won't 
hev  time  to  call  over  to  our  house?" 

"No ;  and  I  sha'n't  get  the  kitchen  floor  scrubbed, 
either,  if  I  stop  here  talking.  So,  good-bye."  And 
I  hurried  into  the  house.  Three  hours  passed, 
and  the  cart  had  not  come  back.  I  felt  sure  that 
Mr.  Warrington  and  the  tramp  had  met. 

That  was  why  I  had  asked  Mr.  Warrington  to 
let  me  go  back  to  the  Lodge  with  him;  not  that 
I  think  the  tramp  would  be  afraid  of  me,  but  he 
wouldn't  be  as  likely  to  hurt  Mr.  Warrington  if 
someone  were  in  the  cart  with  him.  I  was  dread- 
fully scared  when  the  cart  came  at  last,  and  Dr. 
Parke  was  in  it,  instead  of  Mr.  Warrington. 

"Oh,  Doctor!  what  has  happened?"  I  asked, 
meeting  him  at  the  gate. 

"Nothing,  only  you  will  have  to  put  up  with 
an  elderly  escort  back  to  the  Lodge,  Miss  Sand- 


io6  SANDPEEP 

peep,"  he  answered,  smiling.  He  tied  the  horse 
to  the  gate-post,  then,  as  we  walked  toward  the 
house,  he  added:  "Mr.  Warrington  has  gone 
with  the  rest  of  the  young  people  for  a  buckboard 
ride  around  the  lake  and  will  return  home  with 
them  this  evening.  That  is  why  I  am  here  to 
take  you  to  the  Lodge." 

The  good  old  doctor  quite  misunderstood  me 
when  I  exclaimed:  "Oh,  I  am  so  thankful!" 

He  took  off  his  hat  and  said:  "You  flatter  me, 
my  dear.  It  isn't  every  day  that  an  old  fellow 
like  me  is  preferred  to  his  juniors." 

I  laughed  before  I  answered: 

"Of  course,  I  would  rather  have  your  company, 
Doctor,  than  anybody  else's,  young  or  old;  but  I 
said  I  was  thankful,  because  Mr.  Warrington  will 
have  someone  to  go  home  with  him.  I  will  tell 
you  why  after  a  while,"  I  exclaimed  in  a  lower 
tone,  for  aunt  had  come  to  the  stoop  to  shake 
hands  with  him.  There  was  no  need  now  for 
me  to  go  back  to  the  Lodge  until  Monday,  but  I 
thought  I  had  better  go.  So,  after  the  doctor 
had  eaten  a  couple  of  doughnuts,  and  drank  a 
glass  of  milk  —  he  called  it  "taking  afternoon 
tea"  — we  started. 

"Now,  what  have  you  to  tell  me  about  Mr. 
Warrington?"  he  asked,  after  we  had  jolted  out 
of  the  wood-road,  and  the  cart  was  rolling  along 
nicely  toward  the  Lodge. 

"Nothing  about  him,  I  only  wanted  to  tell  you 


SANDPEEP  107 

that  I  saw  the  tramp  to-day,  hiding  in  the  bushes. 
I  believe  he  intends  to  harm  Mr.  Warrington  if 
he  gets  a  good  chance.  I  think  he  is  just  the  sort 
of  person  to  do  something  dreadful  if  he  had  a 
grudge  against  anyone.  That  is  why  I  said  I 
was  thankful,  when  you  told  me  Mr.  Warrington 
would  have  company  home." 

"But  why  do  you  imagine  the  tramp  has  a 
grudge  against  Mr.  Warrington?"  The  doctor's 
lips  and  eyes  asked  the  question. 

"I  don't  know.  I  just  think  so.  Because  he 
didn't  see  the  tramp,  Mr.  Warrington  doesn't 
believe  I  saw  him,  either." 

"Are  you  certain  it  was  the  same  man  you 
encountered  on  the  beach?" 

"I  am;  I  haven't  seen  so  many  tramps  that 
I'd  be  likely  to  forget.  I  really  believe  he  means 
to  harm  Mr.  Warrington,"  I  said  a  second  time. 

"I  imagine  Warrington  will  know  how  to  de- 
fend himself,"  allowed  the  doctor,  smiling. 

"I  don't  believe  he  could  lick  the  tramp,  who 
looks  very  strong,  in  a  fair  fight;  what,  then, 
could  he  do  if  he  was  attacked  when  he  wasn't 
expecting  it?" 

"He  understands  how  to  use  his  fists  almost  as 
well  as  a  prize  fighter,  my  dear;  the  college 
student  nowadays  devotes  as  much,  if  not  more 
time  to  developing  muscle,  as  to  the  training  of 
his  intellect.  In  his  estimation,  brain  and  brawn 
are  synonymous."  (I  sha'n't  know  what  "syn- 


i  o8  S  A  X  D  P  E  E  P 

onymous"  means  exactly,  until  I  can  get  a  peep 
into  the  big  dictionary  in  the  library.  I  wish  I 
had  cue  in  my  room.) 

"Wen,"  I  allowed,  after  I  had  thought  over 
what  the  doctor  had  said,  "I  am  powerful  sony  the 
tramp  took  it  into  his  head  to  come  down  here." 

"So  am  I;  but  civilization  is  attended  by  dis- 
advantages as  wefl  as  advantages;  tramps  and 
Efffjiinin  march  in  its  train. 

"Fashion  doesn't  carry  pistols  to  shoot  at 
folks,7'  I  reminded  him. 

"No,  it  only  robs  them  of  health  and  common 
sense,7'  he  returned,  smiling  at  me.  Then  he 

the  subject:  "How  do 


you  like  tparlimg  the  boy?" 

"I  fike  it  very  much;  but  he  doesn't  learn 
fast  enough  to  suit  me.  He  isn't  the  least  bit 

•mart" 

"No,  on  the  contrary,  he  is  very  dull,  poor 
Hide  chap!  But  you  are  getting  on  with  him 
much  better  than  Miss  Warrington  expected." 

"I  am  very  glad  she  is  pleased.  She  is  so 
kind.  She  lets  me  have  the  old  piano  in  my 
room,  and  has  given  me  several  easy  pieces  of 
music  to  practice.  What  Mr.  Merion  taught  me 
about  notes,  comes  very  handy.  I  guess  it's  be- 
cause I  am  so  fond  of  musk  that  I  get  along 
without  a  teacher.  Don't  you  remember  how  I 
loved  the  music  of  the  wind-harp  you  showed  me 
how  to  make,  long  ago?" 


SANDPEEP  100 

"I  have  a  faint  recollection  of  the  wind-harp," 
he  answered,  sm iling,  and  looking  as  if  he  liked 
to  hear  me  chatter;  "and  I  am  delighted  to  hear 
that  its  music  gave  you  pleasure." 

"It  did;  more  than  I  can  tell  you.  I  remem- 
bered that  you  said,  when  you  showed  me  how  to 
make  the  harp,  that  a  fiddlestring  would  make 
sweeter  music  than  the  waxed  thread;  so,  when 
the  gentleman  who  stopped  at  our  house  one 
stormy  night  long  ago  gave  me  —  There!"  — 
what  had  puzzled  me  so  was  cleared  up  all  in  a 
second,  just  as  when  a  flash  of  lightning  on  a 
dark  night  shows  you  what  you  couldn't  see 
before  —  "that  is  who  Mr.  Warrington  makes 
me  think  of  —  the  fiddlestring  gentleman." 

"Has  the  fiddlestring  gentleman  any  other 
name?"  the  doctor  asked,  smiling. 

"Of  course;  but  I  don't  remember  hearing  it. 
We  always  spoke  of  him,  and  the  young  lady  who 
was  with  him,  as  the  'city  folks,1  or  the  'runa- 
ways.' The  gentleman  called  the  lady  'Angela,' 
and  I  thought  it  such  a  pretty  name  I  called  the 
doll  you  sent  me,  and  one  of  Muley's  bossies, 
after  her — " 

"Where  had  they  come  from?"  the  doctor  in- 
terrupted, and  he  seemed  greatly  interested. 

"From  a  vessel  that  was  lying  at  South  Haven. 
They  wanted  to  go  to  the  Headlands  that  even- 
ing, but  it  was  storming  so,  father  couldn't  think 
of  taking  them.  So  they  stopped  all  night  with 


no  SANDPEEP 

us,  and  the  next  morning  father  carried  them 
in  the  sloop  to  the  Headlands,  where  they  were 
married." 

"And  did  you  never  hear  anything  about  them 
afterward?" 

"Not  a  single  word!  But  we  talked  enough 
about  them  —  hardly  any  city  folks  came  down 
here  in  those  days,  you  know  —  and  even  yet, 
aunt  and  I  talk  about  them  sometimes;  and  I 
think  of  them  every  time  I  look  at  this  ring  the 
lady  gave  me  for  good  luck." 

I  held  up  my  hand  for  the  doctor  to  see  the 
ring,  but  he  was  too  busy  thinking  about  some- 
thing else.  He  did  not  even  look  toward  the  cat- 
spruce  we  were  passing,  when  I  told  him  that  was 
where  I  had  seen  the  tramp.  When  the  buck- 
board  party  drove  up  to  the  front  door  late  in 
the  evening,  I  was  in  my  room,  reading  such  an 
interesting  book,  "The  Encyclopaedia,"  a  sort  of 
dictionary  that  tells  a  lot  about  every  word  in  it. 
There  are  about  a  dozen  volumes,  so  I  shall  have 
all  the  reading  I  can  find  time  for  while  I  am  at 
the  Lodge. 

I  went  to  the  window  when  I  heard  the  buck- 
board,  and  for  a  long  while  after  all  the  rest  had 
gone  into  the  house,  I  saw  Mr.  Warrington  and 
the  doctor  walk  up  and  down  the  terrace,  talking 
very  seriously. 


CHAPTER  X 

1FIND  that  keeping  a  diary  takes  a  good  deal 
of  time;  so,  instead  of  writing  every  evening, 
I  shall  wait  three  or  four  days,  and  use  the 
evenings  between  for  reading  and  practicing  on 
the  piano  —  that  dear,  blessed  piano ! 

If  there  were  forty-eight,  instead  of  only  twenty- 
four,  hours  in  a  day,  I  should  not  find  enough 
time  to  do  everything  I  want  to  do 

Mr.  Warrington  was  as  good  as  his  word.  He 
moved  over  to  the  tower-wing,  to  the  room  next 
to  Geoffrey's,  on  Saturday  evening,  after  he 
came  back  from  driving  around  the  lake.  I  did 
not  like  the  idea  of  having  him  so  near  my  room, 
at  first;  but,  as  he  always  goes  to  bed  late,  I 
don't  think  I  need  to  be  afraid  my  practicing 
will  disturb  him.  The  moonlight  that  evening 
was  just  lovely,  so,  after  Janet  took  my  place 
in  Geoffrey's  room,  I  ran  down  the  tower  stairs 
to  the  outside  door,  which  Miss  Warrington  has 
told  me  several  times  must  be  kept  locked,  day 
and  night.  That's  another  queer  fashion  rusti- 
cators  have :  locking  doors,  as  if  they  were  afraid 
somebody  might  come  in  and  steal  something. 

As  I  did  not  intend  to  stay  outdoors  long,  only 
long  enough  to  run  down  to  the  cliff  and  back, 

in 


H2  SANDPEEP 

I  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  lock  the  door 
and  take  the  key  with  me ;  but  when  I  got  to  the 
edge  of  the  cliff  and  saw  a  sailboat  cutting  its 
way  through  the  millions  and  millions  of  moon- 
diamonds  sparkling  on  the  water,  and  recognized 
the  dear  Keren,  I  clean  forgot  all  about  the  tower- 
door,  and  called  through  my  hands: 

"Halloo,  Zemro!    Where  you  bound?" 

The  boom  was  shifted  in  a  jiffy,  and  the  sloop's 
bow  was  pointed  for  the  little  cove. 

"Hain't  bound  anywheres,"  Zem  called  up  to 
me.  "I  jes'  come  out  fur  a  moonlight  sail.  Don't 
you  want  to  come,  too?" 

I  did  not  think  Miss  Warrington  would  mind  if 
I  went  with  him,  without  first  asking  if  I  might, 
so  I  ran  down  to  the  shore,  and  Zem  came  for 
me  with  the  dory. 

"Guess  we  hev  plenty  of  time  to  sail  'round  the 
leedge,"  he  allowed,  when  we  were  out  among 
the  moon-diamonds. 

"Don't  go  too  far,"  I  cautioned  him;  "the 
breeze  might  die  down." 

"Guess  we  kin  resk  it  fur's  the  leedge,"  and 
he  let  out  all  the  sail. 

The  sloop  flew  before  the  wind  like  a  bird; 
and  we  had  sailed  around  the  ledge,  and  were  on 
the  home  tack  when,  all  at  once,  the  sails  began 
to.  flap  loosely  —  the  breeze  was  dying  out,  and 
we  were  at  least  six  miles  from  the  Lodge  an- 
chorage! There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  row 


SANDPEEP  113 

back,  with  the  sloop  in  tow,  which  is  slow  work 
when  the  tide  is  against  you. 

"We  sha'n't  get  back  before-midnight,"  I  said, 
after  we  had  rowed  steadily  for  what  seemed 
hours,  and  Surgecliff  was  still  miles  away. 

"Don't  guess  we  shell;  tide's  runnin'  out 
pow'ful  strong  th'  sevenin'.  Hain't  cold,  be 
you?" 

"No,  only  vexed;  what  will  Miss  Warrington 
say?" 

"Don't  guess  you'll  hear  what  she'll  say  till 
mornin',"  he  allowed;  and  I  do  believe  he  was 
tickled  over  the  scrape  he  had  got  me  into. 

However,  we  got  back  to  the  Lodge  sooner 
than  I  expected,  for  when  Zem  saw  how  vexed  I 
was,  he  rowed  with  all  his  might.  I  guess  he 
must  have  been  pretty  tired  by  the  time  he  got 
home,  unless  the  breeze  rose  again. 

When  I  got  to  the  tower-door,  which  was  open 
a  little  way,  I  was  greatly  surprised  to  see  a 
light  shining  inside.  I  peeped  through  the  crack, 
and  I'm  sure  I  should  not  have  been  any  more 
scared  if  I  had  seen  the  tramp,  instead  of  Mr. 
Warrington.  He  had  on  a  sort  of  wrapper  that 
came  clear  to  the  floor,  and  was  tied  around  the 
waist  with  a  thick  cord  with  tassels  at  the  ends, 
and  he  had  a  lamp  in  his  hand.  When  I  pushed 
back  the  door,  he  looked  at  me  in  a  way  that 
made  me  wish  I  could  melt  away  to  nothing,  and 
asked  me  where  I  had  been. 


ii4  SANDPEEP 

"Out  —  out  —  doors,"  I  answered,  scarcely 
able  to  speak,  I  was  so  scared,  and  out  of 
breath,  too. 

"That  is  evident!  Do  you  know  how  late  it 
is?" 

"It  must  —  be  very  —  late  —  sir,  but  I  — " 

"It  is  nearly  one  o'clock,"  he  interrupted;  "a 
very  unseemly  hour  for  a  young  girl  to  be  out 
alone." 

"But  I  wasn't  alone,  sir;  I  was  sailing  with 
Zemro  Haskell.  I  did  not  intend  to  stay  longer 
than  half  an  hour,  but  the  wind  died  down,  and 
we  had  to  row  all  the  way  from  the  ledge." 

"You  are  of  course  at  liberty  to  go  where  you 
please,  when  your  tasks  for  the  day  are  over; 
but  I  must  insist  that  you  obey  orders.  The 
doors  here  must  be  kept  locked.  I  see  now  how 
necessary  it  was  for  me  to  move  over  to  this  part 
of  the  house.  I  shall  guard  against  future  negli- 
gence here  by  keeping  this  key  in  my  possession." 

He  locked  the  door,  put  the  key  into  the 
pocket  of  his  wrapper,  and  without  another 
word,  walked  up  the  stairs.  The  moonlight 
shining  through  the  windows  showed  me  the 
way  to  my  tower-top,  after  he  had  gone  into 
his  room  with  the  lamp. 

I  slept  so  late  next  morning  that  everybody 
was  at  breakfast  when  I  went  down.  I  just 
hated  to  go  to  the  table  by  myself,  which  I  had 
to  do,  as  Geoffrey  was  not  yet  well  enough  to 


SANDPEEP  115 

leave  his  room,  but  nobody  minded  me;  only 
Miss  Warrington  spoke  to  me,  and  was  kind  and 
pleasant  as  usual. 

"Who  is  going  to  church  this  morning?"  she 
asked,  when  she  rose  to  leave  the  table  after 
breakfast. 

"  Church  ?  "  repeated  Mr.  Helmsley,  in  great  sur- 
prise. He  is  a  very  pleasant-spoken  gentleman, 
though  not  what  I  should  call  handsome.  I  don't 
think  he  is  as  nice  as  Mr.  Fairboro. 

"Yes,  church.  Do  you  imagine  that  this  ex- 
treme corner  of  our  country  is  still  uncivilized?" 
she  inquired,  smiling  at  him. 

"Not  uncivilized  —  but  a  church ?  Pray,  where 
is  it?" 

"Religious  services  are  held  every  Sunday  in 
the  public  hall  at  the  Headlands  and  in  the 
schoolhouse  at  the  Cove." 

"Let's  all  go  to  the  Headlands  on  the  buck- 
board,"  suggested  Miss  Helmsley.  "I  adore  a 
buckboard." 

They  all  laughed  at  her;  then  her  brother 
said:  "I'll  go  for  a  buckboard  ride,  too,  but 
not  to  hear  a  two-hour  sermon  from  a  country 
parson." 

"I  am  going  to  hear  a  sermon  in  Nature's 
chapel,"  allowed  Mr.  Fairboro,  "to  listen  to  the 
hymning  of  the  surges." 

"  'Hymning  of  the  surges'  is  very  poetic, 
Carrington;  who  said  it  before  you?"  Miss 


n6  SANDPEEP 

Helmsley  and  Mr.  Fairboro  are  always  plaguing 
each  other. 

"It  is  original  with  me,"  he  answered,  letting 
on  to  be  very  dignified.  "My  brain  is  stored 
with  poetic  fancies  - 

"Orders  for  sonnets  filled  while  you  wait!" 
she  interrupted,  laughing. 

Such  joking  is  like  French  to  me;  but  I  like 
to  listen  to  them.  I  sort  of  guess  what  they 
mean  — 

"  'Nature's  chapel/  my  dear  brother,"  said 
Mrs.  Warrington,  who  has  a  most  pleasing  voice 
and  manner  when  she  is  with  folks  she  likes,  "is 
the  usual  excuse  of  your  sex  when  evading  your 
duties  in  the  church  built  by  hands." 

"And  it's  quite  as  good  and  truthful  as  your 
sex's  proverbial  headache,"  he  answered  back. 

"/  never  hear  'hymning,'  or  anything  poetic  in 
surges,"  drawled  Miss  Helmsley.  "The  mere 
sight  of  waves  gives  me  maldymare."  That's 
what  it  sounded  like,  but  what  it  means,  I  don't 
know,  I'm  sure;  I  can't  find  it  in  the  dictionary. 

"I  see  plainly  enough,"  said  Miss  Warrington, 
then,  "that  none  of  you  poetic,  and  otherwise, 
young  persons  intend  to  accompany  me  to  church, 
so—" 

"If  an  elderly  escort  will  be  acceptable,"  Dr. 
Parke  interrupted,  "I  am  at  your  service,  Cousin 
Nelly.". 

"I  did  not  say  I  would  not  go,  Aunt  Elinor," 


SANDPEEP  117 

said  Mrs.  Warrington,  folding  her  napkin;  "and 
I  know  Alice  and  Brian  will  come,  too." 

"Of  course  I  will.  I'll  stand  the  sermon  for 
the  buckboard  ride,"  agreed  Miss  Helmsley;  but 
I  didn't  hear  what  Mr.  Warrington  said,  as  I 
was  hurrying  after  his  aunt.  In  the  hall  I  said 
to  her: 

"Janet  says  she  does  not  need  me  to  help  her 
this  morning,  Miss  Warrington;  so,  if  you  have 
no  objections,  I  should  like  to  go  to  meeting,  as 
there  is  no  one  else  to  play  the  hymns." 

"Why,  certainly  you  may  go,"  she  answered 
heartily.  "I  did  not  expect  you  to  return  yester- 
day. Janet  could  have  taken  care  of  Geoffrey." 

Of  course  I  didn't  tell  her  why  I  had  come 
back  on  Saturday;  but  her  kind  manner  gave  me 
the  courage  to  speak  of  the  night  before  and  the 
sail  with  Zemro. 

"My  nephew  told  me  you  were  out  until  late, 
and  where  you  were,"  she  answered,  not  in  the 
least  as  if  she  were  vexed  with  me,  and  I  was 
turning  to  go  up  the  stairs,  when  she  laid  her 
hand  on  my  arm  in  the  sweet  motherly  way  she 
has  and  asked  me  if  I  was  going  to  marry  Zemro. 

"Marry  Zemro  Haskell?"  I  exclaimed.  "No, 
indeed  I  am  not.  Why  do  you  ask  me  that,  dear 
Miss  Warrington?" 

Instead  of  answering,  she  allowed  that  I  ought 
not  to  encourage  him  if  I  did  not  care  for  him. 

"But  I  do  care  for  him,"  I  said.     "I  like  him 


n8  SANDPEEP 

very  much  —  almost  as  much  as  if  he  were  my 
own  brother." 

"Do  you  imagine  he  cares  for  you  in  the 
same  way,  as  if  you  were  his  sister?"  she  asked, 
smiling. 

My  face  got  red,  for  I  am  beginning  to  believe 
that  Zem  wants  to  be  my  company.  That  some 
folks  think  he  is,  I  know. 

"If  you  think  going  sailing  with  Zemro  is  en- 
couraging him,  I  sha'n't  go  again,"  I  said  after  a 
minute.  "I  will  do  whatever  you  think  I  ought, 
dear  Miss  Warrington." 

She  patted  my  shoulder,  and  answered: 

"I  shall  take  great  pleasure  in  advising  you, 
my  dear,  and  will  talk  this  matter  over  with  you 
some  other  time.  Now,  we  must  make  haste, 
and  be  off  to  'meeting.'  ' 

When  I  got  to  the  schoolhouse,  all  out  of 
breath  from  having  walked  so  fast,  Elder  Snow- 
don  had  just  said,  "We  will  hear  from  the  choir." 

I  hurried  to  my  place  at  the  instrument  — *  I 
must  get  used  to  calling  it  a  'parlor  organ,'  as 
Mr.  Merion  always  called  it  —  opened  the  note- 
book at  one  of  the  hymns  we  always  sing  for  an 
opening  piece,  and  began  to  play. 

As  I  sat  with  my  back  to  the  door  when  play- 
ing, I  did  not  see  that  some  one  else  came  in 
late;  but  if  I  had  looked  up  from  the  keys  I 
might  have  known  from  Zemro' s  black  looks, 
and  Aramanda  Stinson's  smiles,  that  a  stranger 


SANDPEEP  119 

was  in  the  room.  I  guess  it  was  just  as  well  I 
did  not  see  Mr.  Fairboro  come  in,  and,  after 
looking  all  around  for  a  seat,  take  the  dunce's 
stool  near  the  stove.  I  just  know  how  tickled 
the  boys  and  girls  were  when  the  city  gentleman 
chose  the  seat  they  never  took  unless  the  teacher 
made  them. 

When  the  hymn  was  ended,  and  the  Elder  had 
said,  "  Thank  you,"  he  read  a  chapter  in  the 
Bible,  after  which  everybody  sang  the  second 
hymn  with  the  choir;  and  several  times  I  caught 
the  sound  of  a  voice  I  knew  did  not  belong  to 
any  Cove  body.  But  I  never  once  thought  some- 
one from  the  Lodge  might  have  come  to  the 
schoolhouse,  not  even  when  Zemro  whispered  in 
my  ear,  "Guess  I  showed  thet  rusticator  't  some- 
body else  kin  sing  's  good  's  he  kin,"  did  it  enter 
my  head  that  it  was  someone  I  knew. 

I  was  dreadfully  vexed  with  myself  for  getting 
red  in  the  face  when  I  turned  around  and  saw 
Mr.  Fairboro  looking  at  me,  and  smiling.  How 
I  wished  he  hadn't  come  to  meeting!  I  knew  he 
would  make  fun  of  the  Elder's  sermon.  Poor 
Elder  Snowdon!  He  is  very  ignorant,  but  good 
as  can  be;  and  of  course  it  is  better  to  be  good 
than  smart.  I  must  say,  though,  that  I  would 
rather  be  smart  and  wicked  than  good  and  igno- 
rant. I  know  it  is  very  sinful  to  feel  so,  but  one 
can't  help  being  wicked  in  one's  mind,  sometimes. 
Well,  Mr,  Fairboro  and  I  kept  looking  toward 


120  SANDPEEP 

each  other  every  time  the  Elder  said  anything  that 
made  us  take  notice,  and  the  poor  soul  said  so 
many  strange  things,  that — so  it  seems  to  me  now 

—  the  eyes  on  the  dunce-stool,  and  those  beside 
the  instrument,  were  looking  at  each  other  every 
minute. 

The  Elder  was  more  ungrammatical  than  usual. 
As  nearly  as  I  can  remember,  this  is  part  of  his 
sermon ;  I  write  it  down  in  my  diary,  for  I  know  I 
shall  enjoy  reading  it  when  I  am  an  old  woman, 
and  know  ever  so  much  more  than  I  do  now.  He 
had  been  telling  us  that  God  can  do  everything; 
that  nothing  is  impossible  for  Him: 

"No,  sir!"  he  exclaimed,  and  pounded  on  the 
table  with  his  fist.  "There  ain't  nawthin'  God 
can't  do;  'n'  nowheres  He  can't  go.  Mankind  — 
by  mankind  I  mean  men,  weemen,  'n'  children 

—  hed  ought  to  be  thankful  thet  He  kin  be  every- 
wheres  at  oncet.     He  kin  be  in  heaven,  'n'  in  one 
of  them  bean  hills  out  yonder," —  pointing  toward 
Myra  Gladen's  garden  outside  the  window, —  "at 
the  same  minit.     He  kin  go  right  down  here," — 
stamping  his  foot  on  the  platform, —  "'n'   come 
out  in  Chiny.     There  ain't   nawthin'   He  can't 
do!"* 

Oh,  dear!  how  ashamed  I  was  for  him,  for 
myself,  for  all  the  Cove  folks  !  But  they  didn't 
see  anything  to  smile  at  in  the  good  Elder's 

*  From  a  sermon  delivered  in  the  Cove  schoolhouse  at  the  time  of  which 
this  story  treats. 


SANDPEEP  121 

earnest  words.  And,  after  all,  they  were  true; 
a  city  preacher  would  only  have  said  them  in  a  dif- 
ferent way.  I  guess  the  Lord  understood  them, 
and  won't  lay  the  Elder's  ignorance  against  him 
when  it  comes  to  judging  folks  at  the  last  day. 

When  Deacon  Gladen  passed  around  with  his 
hat  for  the  collection,  I  noticed  that  Mr.  Fairboro 
put  a  bill  into  it,  and  it  couldn't  have  been  less 
than  a  dollar.  How  good  it  must  have  made  the 
Elder  feel,  when  he  saw  it  among  the  pennies 
and  nickels! 

I  was  in  a  bad  humor  with  myself  and  every- 
body else  and  I  played  the  last  hymn  so  fast  the 
people  could  hardly  keep  up  with  the  choir. 
Some  of  them  didn't  get  done  singing  one  line 
before  I  was  half  through  the  next  one.  But, 
above  all  the  discord,  I  heard  Mr.  Fairboro's 
beautiful  voice  keeping  time  with  the  instrument, 
clear,  true,  lovely  as  an  angel's.  And  how  vexed 
I  was  with  Zemro  when  he  said  to  me,  after 
meeting  was  over  and  he  was  walking  out  of  the 
schoolhouse  with  aunt  and  me: 

"We  done  splendid  th'  smornin',  Sandpeep! 
Guess  thet  bellerin'  rusticator  found  out  what 
good  singin'  'n'  playin'  is!" 

I  didn't  answer,  I  was  too  cross;  I  even 
snapped  "No,  I'm  not,"  at  aunt,  when  she  asked 
me  if  I  was  going  to  stop  at  home  till  the  next 
morning.  Her  dear  old  face,  away  back  in  the 
crown  of  her  sunbonnet,  looked  so  surprised, 


122  SANDPEEP 

that  I  added  quickly,  "I  must  go  back  to  the 
Lodge,  aunt  dear.  Geoffrey  will  be  well  by  next 
Saturday,  then  I'll  stay  at  home  until  Monday. 
Why  don't  you  go  home  with  Linda  Steven,  and 
make  her  a  little  visit?" 

Aunt  thought  a  minute  and  then  told  me  to 
ask  Linda  if  there  was  room  in  her  wagon  for 
one  more  passenger.  Linda  said  there  was 
"plenty  of  room,"  and  she  would  "admire  to  hev 
Aunt  Hit  make  her  a  visit  now  thet  Steven 
wa'n't  to  home." 

After  I  had  helped  aunt  into  Linda's  ricketty 
old  wagon,  I  went  back  to  Zemro,  who  was  wait- 
ing for  me.  Mr.  Fairboro  was  talking  to  the 
Elder,  near  the  schoolhouse  steps.  He  took  off 
his  hat  to  me,  and  the  Elder  said: 

"Hello,  Sandpeep,  you  was  some  late  th' 
smornin'." 

I  just  said,  "Yes,  sir,  I  couldn't  help  it,"  and 
went  on. 

"There's  a  splendid  sailin'  wind,"  Zemro  said 
to  me,  "'n'  I'll  kerry  you  to  the  Lodge." 

"No,  thank  you,"  I  answered,  very  dignified. 
"I  am  never  going  sailing  with  you  again,  after 
keeping  me  out  so  late  last  night." 

"Why,  Sandpeep!  You  ain't  goin'  to  lay  the 
wind's  goin'  down  to  me,  be  you?  Come  on, 
there's  sech  a  good  breeze." 

He  took  hold  of  my  wrist,  but  I  jerked  away 
from  him,  and  said  crossly: 


SANDPEEP  123 

"I  tell  you  I  am  not  going  sailing  with  you,  ever 
again,  Zem  Haskell;  so  you  needn't  ask  me." 

"You  hain't  never goin'  sailin'  with  me  again?" 
he  spluttered,  angry  as  an  old  hen.  "  Guess  I 
know  why  you  don't  want  I  should  ast  you  to  go 
sailin'  with  me,  Miss  Sandpeep  Brenson;  you'd 
ruther  go  walkin'  with  thet  monkeyfied  rustica- 
tor  't  kin  fling  dollar-bills  in  the  deacon's  hat  like 
they  was  only  cents  —  condemn  him !  You  hed 
better—" 

But  I  didn't  stop  to  hear  what  I  had  better  do; 
I  walked  away  as  fast  as  I  could  go,  up  the  hill. 
I  knew  that  everybody  standing  around  the  steps 
was  just  waiting  to  see  if  Mr.  Fairboro  wouldn't 
walk  along  with  me.  So  I  ran,  rather  than 
walked,  and  had  got  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  out 
of  sight  of  the  schoolhouse,  when  I  heard  Mr. 
Fairboro  say  behind  me: 

"Well,  Miss  Brenson,  from  the  pace  you  are 
going,  one  might  believe  you  were  trying  for  the 
prize  in  a  pedestrian  match." 

At  the  first  sound  of  his  voice,  I  thought  for  a 
minute  that  I  ought  not  let  him  catch  up  with 
me.  Then  I  decided  that  that  would  be  silly; 
so  I  stopped  and  waited  for  him. 

"Why  did  you  run  away  from  me?"  he  asked, 
when  we  were  walking  along  together. 

"I  didn't  run  away  from  you,  Mr.  Fairboro. 
I  am  in  a  hurry  to  get  back  to  the  Lodge,  because 
it  is  luncheon  time." 


124  SANDPEEP 

"Ah,  —  well,  I  am  delighted  to  hear  that 
hunger,  and  not  aversion  for  my  society,  caused 
you  to  flee!  But  didn't  you  guess  that  I  wanted 
to  walk  back  to  the  Lodge  with  you  ?  —  that  I 
went  to  the  schoolhouse  solely  for  that  purpose  ? " 

"No,  sir,  I  didn't.  You  ought  not  to  have 
gone  to  meeting  for  that." 

"You  surely  don't  imagine  I  would  tramp 
through  the  dust  from  Surgecliff  merely  to  listen 
to  that  prosy  old  duf  —  preacher  ?  Come,  Miss 
Brenson,  give  me  credit  for  better  taste,  and 
confess  that  you  were  no  more  edified  by  that 
sermon  than  I  was. " 

Though  I  do  find  fault  with  the  Elder's  way  of 
speaking,  I  think  joking  about  religion  is  sinful; 
so  I  said,  very  dignified: 

"I  may  not  have  admired  what  the  Elder  said, 
but  I  know  he  is  a  very  good  man,  and  does  the 
best  he  knows  how.  That  is  all  anybody  can 
do." 

"You  view  the  subject  in  the  proper  light,  Miss 
Brenson,"  he  allowed;  and,  though  his  face  was 
sober,  I  knew  he  was  laughing  in  his  mind. 
"But,  devout  as  you  are,  I  saw  plainly  enough 
what  you  thought  of  the  Elder's  'best.'  I  am 
a  Lavater  at  reading  countenances,  you  must 
know." 

"What  is  a  Lavater?"  I  asked.  I  hate  not  to 
know  what  people  are  talking  about;  it  makes 
me  feel  such  a  dummy. 


SANDPEEP  125 

"Lavater?"  He  cleared  his  throat  before  ex- 
plaining: "Lavater  was  an  awfully  clever  French- 
man, who  could  read  character  in  countenances, 
don't  you  know?" 

"No,  I  didn't  know,  thank  you.  I  dare  say  I 
shall  learn  all  about  him  when  I  get  to  L  in  the 
Encyclopaedia.  I  have  only  got  as  far  as  D. " 

"What  a  lot  of  cramming  you  must  have  to 
do,  in  order  to  teach!"  he  remarked,  after  a 
minute. 

"Cramming?"  I  repeated.  Father  used  to  say 
to  me,  when  I  ate  so  fast,  "Don't  cram  so,  Sand- 
peep,"  but  I  knew  Mr.  Fairboro  wasn't  talking 
about  my  stomach. 

"Pardon  the  college  slang;  of  course  you  don't 
understand  it.  Cramming  means  stuffing  your 
brain,  studying  a  lot,  so  as  —  er  —  er  —  not  to 
forget,  you  know." 

"I  see.  Yes,  I  study  and  read  a  great  deal, 
now  that  I  have  the  library  at  the  Lodge  to  go 
to  for  books." 

"Do  you  find  the  Encyclopaedia  —  er  —  inter- 
esting?" 

"Oh,  very!  I  know  so  much  more  than  I  did 
before  I  began  to  read  it,  and,  as  I  said,  I  am 
only  at  D." 

"Don't  you  care  for  novels?  —  poetry?" 

"Not  much!  I  have  read  only  one  novel; 
Zemro  Haskell  got  it  from  the  skipper  of  a  trad- 
ing smack,  and  gave  it  to  me.  I  didn't  like  it. 


126  SANDPEEP 

There  was  too  much  fighting  and  killing  people. 
I  have  read  some  poetry  since  I  came  to  the 
Lodge.  It  was  composed  by  Mr.  Merion's 
favorite  poet  —  Mr.  Tennyson.  Have  you  ever 
read  any  of  the  verses  he  wrote?" 

"Yes,  I  have  read  a  good  many  of  Mr.  Tenny- 
son's verses.  But  who  is  Mr.  Merion?" 

"A  gentleman  who  taught  school  here;  he  was 
from  Boston  and  so  smart!" 

"Naturally,  coming  from  Boston!  Where  is  he 
now?" 

"Dr.  Parke  told  me  he  had  gone  out  West 
somewhere,  to  Philadelphia,  I  think." 

"Then  he  must  be  dead.  Boston  folk,  you  must 
know,  Miss  Brenson,  can't  live  anywhere  else." 

I  didn't  like  the  way  he  made  fun  of  Boston, 
and  let  him  see  that  I  didn't  by  not  answering, 
and  after  a  little  while  he  said: 

"If  you  were  turned  to  browse  among  a  lot  of 
modern  romances,  I  wonder  whether  you  would 
continue  to  think  the  Encyclopaedia  the  best 
book." 

"But  I  don't  think  it  is  the  best  book,  Mr. 
Fairboro,"  I  interrupted.  "The  Bible  is  the  best 
book,  of  course.  Though  I  will  say  that,  if  it 
wasn't  wicked,  I  should  prefer  the  Encyclopaedia, 
because  it  explains  things.  There  is  so  much  in 
the  Bible  I  can't  understand." 

"Why  don't  you  ask  the  Elder  to  explain  what 
you  can't  understand?" 


SANDPEEP  127 

"I  don't  think  he  could.  Elder  Snowdon,  as 
you  know,  isn't  educated  like  the  preachers  in 
Boston.  Once,  when  I  asked  him  to  explain 
something  that  puzzled  me,  he  said,  — "  without 
thinking  how  wrong  it  was  to  mock  the  Elder, 
I  repeated  what  he  had  said  exactly  as  he 
said  it:  "'Sandpeep  Brenson,  ef  you  hed  a 
realizin'  sense  of  your  sinfulness,  you  wouldn't 
hev  to  ast  sech  questions;  'n'  ef  you  don't 
want  to  be  in  danger  of  everlastin'  fire  'n' 
brimstun,  you  hed  ought  to  pray  'n'  wrastle 
'thout  ceasin'." 

I  realized  that  I  had  done  what  I  "hedn't 
ought"  when  Mr.  Fairboro  laughed  fit  to  split 
his  sides. 

"What  an  amusing  old  duffer  he  must  be!"  he 
said  when  he  was  done  laughing. 

I  don't  know  what  a  "duffer"  is,  but  I  just 
know  it  isn't  the  sort  of  word  that  ought  to  be 
used  to  describe  the  good  old  Elder;  so  I  said, 
and  I  was  very  dignified: 

"  Elder  Snowdon  is  a  very  good  and  religious 
old  gentleman,  Mr.  Fairboro,  and  I  am  truly 
sorry  I  was  wicked  enough  to  make  you  laugh  at 
him.  Why  I  talk  to  you  as  I  do,  I  don't  know 
I'm  sure,  unless  it  is  because  you  don't  seem  in 
the  least  religious  yourself." 

"No,  I  am  not  in  the  least  religious,"  he 
agreed,  and  he  was  very  serious.  "I  don't  pre- 
tend to  be  good,  Miss  Brenson.  By  Jove!  I 


128  SANDPEEP 

don't  believe  I  have  given  a  thought  to  serious 
subjects  for  years  —  if  ever." 

"And  you  have  lived  all  your  life  in  a  city 
where  you  could  have  had  educated  preachers 
explain  things  you  didn't  understand!" 

"Yes;  all  my  sinful,  wicked  life,"  he  answered 
humbly,  but  I  saw  the  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  and 
knew  he  was  laughing  inside.  "I  deserve  to  be 
severely  punished  for  wasting  so  much  precious 
time,  don't  I?" 

"I  have  no  call  to  judge  anyone,  Mr.  Fairboro, 
and,  come  to  think  of  it,  the  people  who  don't 
want  to  know  everything  are  the  most  contented." 

"They  are!  That  is  what  Mr.  Gray  thought 
when  he  wrote  the  axiom:  'Where  ignorance  is 
bliss'  —  you  know  the  rest,  I  dare  say?" 

"Yes,  I  know  it.  It  was  the  W  line  in  my 
copy-book  at  school;  but  I  never  knew  who  com- 
posed it.  You  are  real  smart  after  all,  aren't 
you?" 

He  looked  sharply  at  me  for  a  second  before 
he  said,  smiling: 

"Not  so  'smart'  as  you  imagine.  You  will  be 
no  end  smarter,  when  you  have  got  to  the  last  Z 
in  the  Encyclopaedia." 

"I  shall  know  a  great  deal  more  than  I  do 
now,"  I  answered,  "but  I  can't  expect  to  know 
as  much  as  you  do.  Books  don't  teach  every- 
thing." 

"You  are  dead  right!  books  don't  teach  every- 


SANDPEEP  129 

thing.  If  you  like,  I  will  teach  you  some  of  the 
things  I  know  —  may  I ?" 

The  way  he  looked  at  me  made  my  face  red. 
I  answered: 

"  Thank  you  kindly  for  the  offer,  but  I  haven't 
time  to  take  lessons  from  you;  and  if  I  had,  I 
know  Miss  Warrington  wouldn't  like  me  to.  Do 
you  think  she  would  mind  if  she  knew  I  had 
doubts?"  I  asked,  because  I  wanted  to  talk 
about  something  else. 

"Doubts?  "he  repeated,  and  he  looked  puzzled. 
"What  sort  of  doubts?" 

"I  mean  my  doubts  about  some  of  the  things  I 
read  in  the  Bible." 

"Oh!  —  no;  Aunt  Elinor  is  too  sensible  to 
mind  such  trifles.  Besides,  your  doubts  are  not 
likely  to  interfere  with  your  teaching  Geoffrey.  I 
know  she  wouldn't  condemn  you  to  'everlastin' 
fire  'n'  brimstun'  for  them;  Warrington  is  a  sort 
of  Agnostic  himself." 

"Is  an  Agnostic  anything  like  an  Episcopal?" 
I  asked.  "Elder  Snowdon  says  the  Episcopals 
who  are  building  the  chapel  at  the  Headlands, 
might  just  as  well  be  Greenland's  icy  mountain 
heathens,  because  they  dance,  and  do  other 
wicked  things." 

Mr.  Fairboro  laughed  heartily  again  before  he 
answered:  "No,  Agnostics  and  Episcopals  are 
not  the  least  alike." 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me  what  an  Agnostic 


130  SANDPEEP 

is?  I  don't  remember  seeing  that  word  among 
the  A's  in  the  Encyclopaedia." 

"An  Agnostic  is  —  er  —  an  Agnostic  isn't  — 
doesn't  believe  anything." 

"Doesn't  believe  anything?  "  I  repeated. 

"Nothing  at  all!  Warrington  isn't  the  only 
unbeliever  in  the  world,  Miss  Brenson,  so  you 
needn't  look  so  horrified.  Scores  of  able  men 
—  and  women,  too  —  are  free-thinkers  — ': 

"Free-thinkers?"  I  interrupted ;  "what  are  they, 
please?" 

"Well,  by  Jove!"  and  he  laughed  again; 
"the  next  time  I  start  out  to  enjoy  a  walk  with 
you,  I'll  bring  a  wheelbarrow  loaded  with  dic- 
tionaries and  encyclopaedias  with  me." 

"I  know  I  am  very  ignorant,"  I  said,  a  little 
vexed.  "I  have  never  been  to  Boston." 

"A  most  satisfactory  excuse  for  ignorance!" 
he  said  with  a  laugh.  "But  you  are  not  by  any 
means  ignorant,  Miss  Brenson,"  he  added  more 
seriously.  "I  doubt  it  every  person  that  has 
been  to  Boston  could  fully  explain  the  beliefs  of 
Spencer,  Huxley,  Haeckel,  and  the  rest  of  those 
clever  unbelieving  duffers." 

"Would  you  mind  writing  down  those  names  for 
me,  Mr.  Fairboro?  I  want  to  read  about  them." 

"I  will  write  out  a  list  for  you  with  great 
pleasure." 

"Thank  you;  I  wish  I  knew  as  much  as  you 
do!" 


SANDPEEP  131 

"7  have  been  to  Boston,  you  see!"  he  an- 
swered in  a  joking  way.  Then  he  came  closer  to 
my  side,  and  said  quite  seriously:  "A  thought 
has  suddenly  occurred  to  me,  Miss  Brenson. 
Couldn't  you  and  I  arrange  for  an  hour's  study 
together,  now  and  then?  It  would  be  of  great 
benefit  to  both  of  us.  You  could  tell  me  much 
that  I  should  like  to  know  about  this  region,  and 
the  people;  and  I  might  be  able  to  teach  you 
something,  too." 

"I  am  quite  sure  you  could,"  I  answered 
heartily;  "and  I  should  enjoy  nothing  better; 
but,  as  I  said  before,  I  haven't  time  even  for 
an  hour  now  and  then." 

"You  are  free  on  Saturday  afternoon,  and 
Sunday,  aren't  you?"  he  asked  after  a  minute. 

"Yes,  sir,  but  on  Saturday  I  have  such  a  lot  of 
work  to  do  at  home;  and  on  Sunday  morning  I 
play  the  instrument  —  I  mean  the  parlor  organ 
• —  at  meeting,  and  practice  hymns  in  the  after- 
noon." 

"At  the  schoolhouse?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"By  yourself?" 

"Sometimes;  and  sometimes  Aramanda  Stim- 
son  and  Zemro  Haskell  practice  with  me.  They 
sing  in  the  choir." 

"I  understand.  The  young  lady  has  a  pretty 
good  voice,  and  so  has  Haskell;  but  he  ought 
not  to  imagine  he  is  singing  bass  when  he  bellows 


132  SANDPEEP 

like  a  fog-horn.  I  say,"  he  asked  suddenly,  and 
looked  at  me  sharply,  "had  that  young  man  a 
right  to  look  like  a  thunder-cloud  because  I 
wanted  to  walk  home  with  you?" 

"Why,  no,  sir.  Nobody  has  a  right  to  object 
to  your  walking  with  me  —  if  you  care  to  -  I 
broke  off  suddenly,  and  felt  my  cheeks  burn,  for 
I  remembered  that  there  were  folks  who  would 
object  if  Mr.  Fairboro  paid  attention  to  me. 

"If  I  care  to?"  he  repeated,  in  a  way  that 
made  my  cheeks  get  redder.  "I  care  very  much, 
and  I  hope  you  are  enjoying  our  walk  as  much 
as  I  am.  Are  you?" 

"I  think  it  is  very  pleasant,"  I  answered,  and 
felt  foolish.  "It  is  always  more  pleasant  to 
have  company  than  to  tramp  along  by  yourself. 
Father  used  to  say:  'Two  vessels  cruising  within 
hailing  distance  shorten  the  voyage, '  and  I'm  sure 
I  have  learned  something  from  the  other  vessel 
on  this  voyage!"  I  added,  and  laughed. 

"I  am  delighted  to  hear  you  say  so;  there  are 
some  things  I  should  like  to  teach  you  if  — " 

He  didn't  finish  what  he  was  going  to  say,  for 
just  then  the  buckboard  coming  from  the  Head- 
lands swung  into  the  Lodge  road  behind  us. 

Mr.  Warrington  wasn't  in  the  buckboard,  but 
after  it  had  passed  us  —  everybody  in  it  stared 
at  us  —  he  stepped  out  of  the  bushes  at  the  side 
of  the  road.  To  think  that  he  and  Miss  War- 
rington should  have  seen  me  with  Mr.  Fairboro! 


SANDPEEP  133 

I  shall  tell  them  the  first  chance  I  get  that  it 
wasn't  my  fault! 

I  couldn't  look  at  Mr.  Warrington,  I  was  so 
flustered;  but  Mr.  Fairboro  said  in  his  gay,  care- 
less way  —  I  don't  think  anybody  or  anything 
could  scare  him!  — 

"Hullo,  Brian;  thought  you  went  to  church 
with  the  rest?" 

Mr.  Warrington  answered  very  shortly: 

"I  changed  my  mind.  Did  you  find  the  ser- 
mon in  ' Nature's  chapel'  edifying?"  He  lifted 
his  hat  to  me,  as  he  asked  the  question  of  Mr. 
Fairboro,  who  answered: 

"I,  too,  changed  my  mind,  and  went  to  meeting 
at  the  schoolhouse;  and  I  enjoyed  the  sermon 
hugely!" 

A  strange  man,  who  seemed  to  be  waiting  for 
somebody,  just  then  stepped  toward  us.  He 
took  off  his  hat,  and,  holding  it  in  his  hand, 
said  very  politely: 

"Pardon  me,  gentlemen;  can  you  tell  me  if 
the  owner  of  this  place  would  see  me  to-day?  I 
was  told  in  the  village,  where  I  landed  yesterday, 
that  an  assistant  coachman  is  wanted  here,  and 
as  I  was  afraid  I  should  be  too  late  if  I  waited 
until  to-morrow,  I  took  the  liberty  of  coming 
to-day." 

Mr.  Warrington  stopped  to  speak  to  the  man, 
and  Mr.  Fairboro  and  I  walked  on  up  the  avenue. 
Neither  of  us  spoke,  and  presently  Mr.  Warring- 


134  SANDPEEP 

ton  —  he  must  have  walked  very  fast  —  caught 
up  with  us. 

"You  didn't  engage  that  hairy-faced  fellow,  I 
hope,  Brian?"  said  Mr.  Fairboro. 

"I  did.  We  must  have  some  one  hi  John's 
place.  This  man,  who  seems  to  understand  his 
business,  and  has  satisfactory  references,  will  do 
very  well  down  here.  I  objected  to  his  beard, 
but  he  is  forced  by  a  weak  throat  to  wear  it." 

They  kept  on  talking  about  things  that  didn't 
interest  me.  I  wondered  why  they  should  object 
to  the  man's  beard;  as  if  a  man  with  a  beard 
couldn't  drive  a  horse  as  well  as  one  with- 
out! I  would  have  liked  to  hurry  on,  and  get  to 
the  house  before  they  did,  but  as  I  was  afraid 
that  wouldn't  be  manners,  I  walked  with  them 
until  we  got  to  the  path  across  the  lawn  to  the 
side  door.  Then  I  asked  to  be  excused,  and  left 
them. 


CHAPTER  XI 

WHAT  a  dear,  secret-keeping  little  book 
this  is!  It  lets  me  do  all  the  telling, 
and  doesn't  repeat  it  to  a  soul!  Now, 
I  must  make  a  record  of  what  has  happened  in 
the  past  week  or  I  may  forget  some  of  it,  and  that 
would  be  a  pity.  When  I  am  an  old  woman,  I 
shall  want  to  bring  back  to  my  mind  every  single 
thing  I  did,  heard,  saw,  when  I  was  a  girl.  Old 
folks  don't  have  much  to  interest  them.  I  shall 
enjoy  reading  a  good  fat  book  and  not  a  story- 
book, either!  I  can  see  myself  sitting  beside  the 
kitchen  table  at  home,  old,  wrinkled,  gray  hair, 
specs  on,  candle  close  enough  for  me  to  see  the 
words  plainly,  poring,  poring  over  these  pages, 
smiling,  having  a  good  time  all  by  myself.  That 
is  the  only  sad  thing  about  it,  that  aunt  will  not 
be  there ;  for  when  I  am  as  old  as  she  is  now,  she 
will  be  resting  beside  father  in  the  little  burying- 
ground  in  the  pasture.  I  wish  it  were  possible 
for  folks  to  live  one  hundred  and  forty  years, 
then  aunt  would  be  with  me;  and  what  "a  jolly 
good  time,"  as  Mr.  Helmsley  says,  we  should 
have  together! 

Well,  to  begin  with  four  days  ago:    I  had  been 
trying  for  ever  so  long  to  get  Geoffrey  to  call  W 

135 


136  SANDPEEP 

by  its  right  name,  —  he  will  say  "doublewe" 
when  I  tell  him  it  is  "double;y0w," — when  he 
suddenly  slid  down  from  his  chair,  and  ran  to 
the  window,  exclaiming,  ' '  Oh !  —  oh !  —  voya  — 
voya" — or  something  like  it,  —  "see  —  see,  my 
big  dog!" 

I  followed  him  to  the  window  and  saw  the  new 
stableman  crossing  the  lawn,  leading  a  great  big 
dog  toward  the  front  of  the  house.  Just  then 
James  came  to  tell  me  that  Mr.  Warrington  and 
Dr.  Parke  were  on  the  terrace  and  wanted  me  to 
come  down  with  Geoffrey. 

We  raced  down,  but  Geoffrey  beat  me,  and 
when  I  got  to  the  terrace  he  was  hugging  and 
kissing  the  dog's  big,  shaggy  head,  just  as  if  he 
had  always  been  acquainted  with  him,  and  knew 
he  wouldn't  bite.  The  dog  acted,  too,  as  if  he 
knew  the  boy.  He  licked  his  face,  and  wagged 
his  bushy  tail,  in  the  glad  way  dogs  have  when 
they  are  pleased.  The  doctor  and  Mr.  War- 
rington were  as  surprised  as  I  was  to  see  the 
dog  so  friendly;  but  the  new  man  explained 
that  he  was  very  fond  of  children. 

"Speak  English,  Geoffrey,"  Mr.  Warrington 
commanded,  when  the  boy  began  to  chatter 
French.  To  me  he  said,  in  the  same  stern  tone: 
"You  are  not  strict  enough  with  your  pupil,  Miss 
Brenson;  he  will  never  learn  to  speak  English  if 
you  are  not  more  strict." 

"He  speaks  French,  sir,  only  when  he  is  very 


SANDPEEP  137 

much  excited,  or  angry,"  I  answered,  my  face 
red,  for  I  hated  to  be  scolded  before  the  new 
man. 

"You  must  not  expect  too  much  of  the  lad, 
Brian,"  allowed  my  good  friend,  the  doctor.  "It 
is  very  natural  that  he  should  forget  sometimes, 
when  he  is  excited  or  angry,  as  Miss  Brenson 
says.  /  think  he  does  very  well,  very  much 
better  than  if  he  had  a  teacher  who  could 
understand  his  French  jabber." 

I  wonder  what  the  doctor  and  Mr.  Warrington 
would  say  if  they  knew  I  am  trying  to  learn 
"French  jabber?"  I  found  a  French  lesson- 
book  on  a  top  shelf  in  the  library,  and  carried  it 
to  my  room,  where  I  keep  it  hidden  in  the  closet. 
I  am  studying  it,  but  find  it  pretty  hard  without  a 
teacher.  There  are  so  many  letters  in  some  of 
the  words  that  don't  seem  to  be  of  any  use,  I 
shall  never  learn  to  pronounce  them  right  with- 
out someone  to  tell  me  how. 

"What  is  the  dog's  name,  Malston?"  Mr. 
Warrington  asked  the  new  coachman. 

"Bonommy,  sir."    That  is  what  it  sounded  like. 

"A  ridiculous  name  for  a  dog!"  Mr.  Warring- 
ton  allowed.  "It  is  too  long;  we  must  give  him 
a  shorter  one." 

"Call  him  Bonny,"  suggested  the  doctor.  "If 
it  isn't  exactly  suitable  to  such  a  huge  beast,  it 
sounds  so  nearly  like  the  name  he  is  used  to  that 
he  will  not  mind  the  difference," 


138  SANDPEEP 

"And  Bonny  is  such  a  pretty  name,"  I  allowed, 
patting  the  shaggy  head.  I  guess  he  must  be 
fond  of  big  girls  as  well  as  of  little  children,  for 
he  looked  up  at  me,  and  wagged  his  tail,  as 
much  as  to  say:  "Pat  me  all  you've  a  mind 
to;  I  won't  bite  you." 

"You  say  he  is  a  good  watch-dog?"  Mr.  War- 
rington  inquired  of  the  man. 

"Yes,  sir;  one  of  the  best!  He  has  been 
trained  to  obey.  If  you  bid  him  to  keep  guard, 
he  will  not  leave  the  spot  until  you  tell  him  he 
may.  While  he  is  gentle  as  a  lamb  with  children, 
and  the  people  he  knows,  he  is  savage  as  a  wolf 
with  strangers  who  have  no  business  about  the 
premises.  I  believe  he  would  tear  a  burglar  to 
pieces." 

"Then  he  is  the  sort  of  dog  we  want  here," 
allowed  Mr.  Warrington,  looking  satisfied.  "He 
is  to  sleep  outside  the  door  of  Master  Geoffrey's 
room.  Miss  Brenson  will  show  you  the  way  to 
the  room  now,  and  you  can  give  her  instructions 
concerning  the  management  of  him.  You,  of 
course,  will  attend  to  feeding  him.  You  know 
what  he  requires,  I  dare  say?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  know  how  to  care  for  dogs  as  well 
as  horses." 

"Very  good.  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  with 
your  selection  of  a  dog,  and  am  obliged  to  you 
for  securing  so  valuable  an  animal." 

Malston  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed;   then  he 


SANDPEEP  139 

followed  me  and  Geoffrey  across  the  terrace  to 
the  side  door. 

When  we  got  to  the  upper  hall,  Geoffrey 
wanted  to  lead  Bonny,  but  I  asked  Malston  not 
to  let  go  the  chain,  as  I  was  afraid  the  dog 
might  run  away. 

"No  danger  of  his  doing  that,  now,  Miss!  he 
will  follow  the  little  master  wherever  he  goes, 
without  the  chain." 

He  bent  over  the  dog  to  unfasten  the  chain 
from  the  collar,  and  as  he  did  so,  whispered 
something  to  Geoffrey,  who  looked  up  at  him, 
sudden  wonder  in  his  big  black  eyes.  Then 
Geoffrey  began  to  chatter  excitedly  in  French. 

"You  must  speak  English,  Geoffrey,"  I  inter- 
rupted, sternly,  for  I  wasn't  going  to  have  Mr. 
Warrington  scold  me  again. 

"I  can  understand  him,  Miss,"  Malston  said, 
as  politely  as  he  would  have  spoken  to  one  of  the 
Lodge  folks.  I  guess  he  thought  I  was  one  of 
them.  "I  learned  to  speak  French  in  Canada, 
where  I  lived  before  I  came  here." 

"Oh,  can  you  really  speak  French?"  I  ex- 
claimed, surprised  that  a  man  like  him  should 
know  how.  Then  I  added  quickly,  too  low  for 
Geoffrey,  who  was  ahead  of  us  with  the  dog,  to 
hear,  "You  must  be  very  careful  never  to  speak 
French  to  the  little  boy.  You  see,  we  want  him 
to  speak  nothing  but  English ;  and  he  will  not  do 
that,  if  he  knows  you  can  understand  French," 


140  SANDPEEP 

"I  understand,  Miss,  and  I  will  be  very  care- 
ful. Is  Mr.  Warrington  a  French  gentleman?" 

"No,  —  at  least,  I  don't  think  he  is,  though 
he  can  speak  French,"  I  answered. 

"It  is  very  strange  he  doesn't  want  his  little 
son  to  speak  it,  when  so  many  American  and 
English  families  employ  French  governesses  to 
teach  their  children  the  language.  Do  you  speak 
it,  Miss?" 

"No, —  I  wish  I  could." 

"It  is  not  a  difficult  language  to  learn,  Miss." 

"It  appears  dreadfully  hard  to  me,"  I  an- 
swered. 

"Then  you  have  studied  it,  Miss?" 

"I  am  trying  to  study  it  by  myself." 

He  didn't  speak  again  for  several  seconds, 
then,  hesitatingly,  as  if  he  thought  he  ought  not 
to  say  it:  "If  you  will  not  think  I  am  taking  too 
much  liberty,  Miss,  I  might  help  you;  I  could 
explain  what  seems  hard  when  I  come  for  the  dog 
at  feeding  time,  and  in  the  evening,  when  I  bring 
him  to  guard  the  little  master's  door." 

Now,  just  wouldn't  I  have  jumped  at  such  an 
offer  if  I  hadn't  known  that  Miss  Warrington 
had  hired  me  to  teach  her  little  nephew  because 
I  don't  know  French.  It  isn't  treating  her  just 
fair,  I  know,  to  study  it  on  the  sly;  but,  if  I 
should  succeed  in  learning  it,  I  shall  never  let 
anyone  know  it,  as  long  as  I  am  Geoffrey's 
teacher.  If  I  should  let  the  stableman  help  me, 


SANDPEEP  141 

somebody  about  the  house  would  be  sure  to  find 
it  out.  So  I  had  to  answer,  and  sorry  enough  I 
was  to  have  to  do  it,  too: 

"You  are  very  kind,  Mr.  Malston,  but  I  can't 
accept  your  offer."  I  guess  he  thought  he  had 
offended  me,  for  he  said  quickly: 

"I  hope  you  will  pardon  my  impertinence, 
Miss.  I  forgot  that  a  man  in  my  position  ought 
not  to  speak  as  I  did  to  a  young  lady  like 
you.  But  I  have  not  been  a  stableman  always. 
Misfortune  compels  me  to  occupy  the  menial 
position." 

I  was  sorry  for  him,  and  said: 

"Oh,  please  don't  think  I  refused  your  kind 
offer  because  you  work  in  a  stable.  That  doesn't 
matter  in  the  least,  I  assure  you;  but,  don't  you 
see,  if  I  were  to  take  French  lessons  from  you, 
Geoffrey  would  be  sure  to  find  it  out.  Then 
I  never  should  be  able  to  make  him  talk  only 
English." 

"I  see,  Miss,"  he  answered,  "and  I  thank  you 
from  my  heart  for  your  friendliness  toward  a — 
stableman." 

If  he  thinks  working  in  a  stable  is  such  a 
"menial  position,"  I  wonder  he  doesn't  teach 
school  ?  He  seems  smart  enough  —  for  down 
here,  I  mean.  Of  course,  he  wouldn't  do  for  a 
school  in  Boston. 

It  did  not  take  long  to  learn  how  to  make 
Bonny  mind  what  I  said  to  him.  He  has  lots 


142  SANDPEEP 

more  sense  than  many  of  the  people  I  am  ac- 
quainted with;  and  I  wonder  his  owner  should 
sell  such  a  splendid  dog.  I  said  so  to  Malston. 

"I  wonder  at  it,  too,  Miss,"  he  answered,  "but 
many  strange  things  are  done  for  money;  I  dare 
say  his  owner  was  very  poor." 

"Poverty  wouldn't  make  me  sell  such  a  dog," 
I  allowed.  "I  guess  he  could  catch  enough  rab- 
bits, and  I  could  catch  enough  fish,  to  keep  him 
and  me  from  starving." 

Malston  laughed ;  then  asked  if  there  wasn't  a 
nearer  way  he  could  come  to  fetch  Bonny  at  meal 
times,  than  the  side  entrance. 

"There  is  a  door  at  the  foot  of  that  stairs,"  I 
answered,  pointing  toward  it  from  the  door  of 
Geoffrey's  room,  where  we  were  standing,  "but 
it  is  kept  locked,  and  Mr.  Warrington  has  the 
key." 

"Why,  there  aren't  any  burglars  in  this  out-of- 
the-way  place,  are  there?"  he  asked,  smiling. 

"I  have  never  heard  of  any  here,"  I  answered. 
A  tramp  isn't  a  burglar,  so  I  didn't  think  I  needed 
to  explain. 

"I  don't  believe  there  are  any,"  he  allowed. 
"It  would  be  much  more  convenient  for  me  to 
come  and  go  that  way." 

And  because  I  thought  so,  too,  I  made  bold  to 
say  to  Mr.  Warrington,  when  I  met  him  in  the 
hall  a  little  while  afterward: 

"Please,  Mr.  Warrington,  won't  you  let  me  have 


SANDPEEP  143 

the  key  of  the  tower-door?  Mr.  Malston  says 
it  would  be  so  much  handier  for  him  to  come 
in  that  way  for  Bonny.  I  promise  that  the  door 
shall  be  kept  locked." 

He  looked  as  if  he  meant  to  refuse;  then  he 
fetched  the  key  from  his  room,  and  handed  it 
to  me. 

"Here  it  is;  I  will  see  if  you  are  to  be  trusted!" 

"You  may  trust  me,  sir;  and  I  hope  you  will 
believe,  too,  that  I  want  to  please  you  always  "  I 
said. 

"I  will  believe  that,  when  I  become  convinced 
that  my  orders  are  obeyed  to  the  letter!"  he 
answered.  "Now,  be  kind  enough  to  tell  Janet 
to  prepare  Geoffrey  as  quickly  as  possible  for  a 
ride  on  his  pony." 

When  I  had  seen  the  boy  and  his  father  ride 
down  the  avenue,  with  Malston  following  them,  I 
sat  down  to  practice  for  the  hour  I  should  be  free 
to  do  as  I  chose.  I  had  just  begun  the  pretty 
waltz  I  am  learning,  when  James  came  to  tell  me 
that  a  lady  had  called  to  see  me. 

"Are  you  sure  she  wants  to  see  me?"  I  asked, 
without  rising  from  the  piano-stool. 

"Yes,  Miss;  she  said:  'I  want  you  should  tell 
Miss  Keren  Happuch  Brenson  that  a  lady  has 
come  to  call.'  " 

It  was  as  much  as  James  could  do  to  keep 
from  laughing. 

"I  asked  for  her  name,"  he  went  on  to  tell  me, 


144  SANDPEEP 

"but  she  said:  'Never  you  mind  my  name,  Mr. 
Whatever-yours-may-be ;  you  go  right  along  'n' 
tell  Miss  Keren  Happuch  Brenson  that  a  lady  has 
called  to  see  her.  She'll  know  me  very  well  when 
she  sees  me.' ' 

"It  sounds  like  Aunt  Hit,"  I  said  to  myself, 
and  ran  down  to  the  small  reception-room.  It 
wasn't  aunt,  but  Louine  Haskell,  of  all  people 
in  the  world! 

There  she  was,  all  dressed  up  in  her  meeting- 
frock  and  bonnet,  rocking  for  dear  life  in  the 
cushioned  arm-chair  that  rocks  without  moving 
on  the  carpet. 

"Louine  Haskell!"  I  exclaimed,  and  not  as  if  I 
were  pleased,  either.  "What  brought  you  here?" 

"Zem's  bo't,"  she  answered,  and  kept  on  rock- 
ing. "I  hev  been  call'atin'  to  call  to  the  Lodge 
to  see  you,  ever  sence  you  come  here,  'n'  when 
Zem  told  me  th'  smornin'  he  was  comin'  here 
with  the  sloop,  I  jes'  made  up  my  mind  I'd  come 
with  him  —  'n'  here  I  be.  Folks  hes  got  to  call 
to  see  you,  for  you  don't  never  call  to  see  them 
any  more." 

"You  know  very  well  I  haven't  got  time  now 
to  call  to  see  anybody,"  I  answered. 

"Guess  you  could  find  time  ef  you  wanted," 
still  rocking  hard  as  she  could.  "I  ain't 's  smart 's 
some  folks,  Sandpeep  Brenson,  but  I  cal'late  I  do 
know  some  things,  'n'  one  of  'em  is:  why  you  hev 
stopped  callin'  to  our  house." 


SANDPEEP  145 

"If  you  know  that  it  is  anything  but  want  of 
time,  then  you  are  a  lot  smarter  than  I  am,"  I 
answered,  very  dignified.  Then  I  asked  her  if 
she  was  going  to  stop  a  while. 

"Yes,  I  be,"  she  snapped.  "I  know  you  don't 
want  I  should,  but  old  lady  Warrin'ton  ast 
me  to  stop  to  lunch  with  you,  'n'  I  caPlate  to 
do  it!" 

"Where  did  you  see  Miss  Warrington?"  I 
asked,  feeling  for  the  first  time  that  that  dear, 
kind  lady  could  make  a  mistake. 

"Down  to  the  shore;  she,  'n'  some  more  Lodge 
folks  went  sailin'  in  the  sloop.  Who  is  thet 
fleshy,  sandy-complected  woman  thet  laughs  so 
much?" 

"I  think  you  must  mean  Mrs.  Warrington." 

"Is  she  the  little  boy's  ma?" 

"No." 

"Then  what  Mrs.  Warrin'ton  is  she?" 

"She  is  a  widow;  her  husband  was  a  cousin  of 
this  Mr.  Warrington." 

"Wall,  whoever  she  be,  she  laughed  like  every- 
thing when  I  ast  old  lady  Warrin'ton  ef  she 
hedn't  some  o'ts  to  spare  — 

"You  asked  Miss  Warrington  if  she  hadn't  some 
o'ts  to  spare?"  I  interrupted,  oh,  so  ashamed! 
I  don't  wonder  the  "fleshy,  sandy-complected 
woman"  laughed;  she  laughs  at  less  than  that! 

Louine  rocked  faster  than  ever  as  she  snapped 
out: 


146  SANDPEEP 

"Yes,  I  did  ast  her  that,  Miss  Sandpeep  Bren- 
son!  I  said  I  wanted  'em  fur  Mandy  Bascom, 
who  has  sech  hard  gittin'  along,  now  thet  her 
man's  hauled  up  with  tubecolossus  in  his  j'ints, 
'n'  her  with  two  infants,  'n'  a  pig  to  feed,  too. 
Mandy '11  be  pow'ful  thankful  fur  whatever 's 
left  over,  'n'  there's  like  to  be  a  right  smart  lot, 
with  sech  a  big  fambly  to  cook  fur.  Old  lady 
Warrin'ton  didn't  know  't  fust  what  o'ts  wus,  'n' 
when  I  told  her,  she  said  she'd  speak  to  the 
housekeeper  about  savin'  'em  fur  Mandy.  Who 
is  the  housekeeper?" 

"Mrs.  Gilbert,"  I  answered  shortly,  for  I  was 
vexed  with  Louine.  Then  I  added :  "I  wish  you 
would  stop  calling  Miss  Warrington  'old  lady.'  " 

"I  shell  call  her  jes'  's  I  hev  a  mind  to,"  was 
the  stubborn  reply.  "She  hain't  no  pullet,  with 
thet  gray  hair  of  hern!  Where's  the  little  boy's 
ma?"  she  asked  after  a  minute. 

"She  is  dead." 

"Hm  —  m  —  m,"  nodding  her  head,  and  look- 
ing very  knowing.  "  Widow- woman,  'n'  widow- 
man!  I  hain't  acquainted  with  widow- weemen's 
ways  ef  the  little  boy  don't  hev  a  stepmother  to 
spank  him  'fore  he's  much  older!" 

I  never  was  so  out  of  patience  with  her  before ; 
I  just  would  not  take  any  notice  of  her  sly  hint, 
but  said: 

"As  you  are  going  to  stop  here  a  while,  we  may 
as  well  go  up  to  my  room." 


SANDPEEP  147 

She  stopped  rocking,  and  got  up  from  the  chair. 

"I  hev  been  waitin'  to  be  ast  to  go  to  see  your 
room,"  she  said;  "I  wanted  to  go  right  to  it  with 
the  gentleman  thet  let  me  in,  but  he  'lowed  I  hed 
better  wait  here  in  the  settin'-room  till  he'd  find 
out  ef  you  was  to  home.  He's  pow'ful  bashful, 
ain't  he?" 

I  led  the  way  up-stairs.  Louine  had  to  stop 
every  few  steps  to  look  at  something.  Of  course 
everything  was  new  to  her,  as  it  had  been  to  me 
the  first  day  I  came  to  the  Lodge.  It  is  per- 
fectly wonderful  how  soon  a  body  gets  used  to 
things.  There  is  this  difference  between  her  and 
me:  I  did  not  let  anybody  see  how  surprised  I 
was.  I  just  looked  as  if  I  had  been  used  to  such 
things  all  my  life.  I  guess  the  reason  an  owl  is 
called  wise  is  because  he  looks  as  if  he  knew  all 
about  everything. 

"Wall!"  Louine  was  panting  for  breath  when 
we  got  to  the  top  of  the  last  stairs,  "I'm  tiyed.'s 
ef  I  hed  clim'  Green  Mounting.  I  shouldn't 
admire  to  hev  all  them  steps  to  come  up  more  'n 
oncet  a  day.  You  hev  got  a  pianny  in  your 
room,  sure  enough!"  she  added,  when  I  opened 
the  door.  "I  didn't  more 'n  half  believe  you 
hed,  'n'  thet's  why  I  was  cur'us  to  see  with  my 
own  eyes.  I  hev  found  out,"  —  after  she  had 
looked  slowly  around  the  pretty  room,  which  is 
larger  than  our  spare-chamber  and  kitchen  put 
together  —  "what  hes  set  you  up  so,  Keren 


148  SANDPEEP 

Brenson,  'n'  it's  jes 's  I  told  Zem:  'Zem,'  s'l, 
'jes'  you  mind  what  I  say:  Sandpeep  '11  git  thet 
set  up,  livin'  to  the  Lodge,  she  won't  be  no  fit 
wife  fur  you,'  s'l,  'n'  — " 

"You  need  not  trouble  yourself  about  me  being 
no  fit  wife  for  Zem,"  I  interrupted;  "I  wouldn't 
marry  him  —  not  for  anything." 

"Why,  great  grief!  Keren  Brenson,"  she  ex- 
claimed, her  black  eyes  glaring  at  me  and  her 
black  curls  shaking  with  fury.  "You  talk's  ef 
Zem  wa'n't  your  company  —  hedn't  been  your 
company  ever  sence  you  put  on  long  frocks. 
What  do  you  cal'late  he's  been  follerin'  'round 
after  you  fur,  'n'  doin'  everything  fur  you,  all 
this  time,  I  want  to  know?" 

I  was  very  angry,  but  I  managed  to  keep  my 
temper  and  say  quietly: 

"I  never  once  imagined  that  Zemro  would 
think  he  was  my  company,  just  because  aunt  and 
I  accepted  so  many  favors  from  him.  I  believed 
he  was  kind  to  us  because  we  hadn't  father  to 
do  for  us.  I  like  Zem  as  a  good,  kind  friend, 
but—" 

"Friend  your  granny's  night-cap!"  she 
snapped,  and  flung  herself  into  the  rocking-chair; 
it  is  one  of  the  old-fashioned  kind,  with  rockers, 
and  I  expected  every  minute  to  see  her  tumble 
over  backward,  she  rocked  so  fast  and  hard. 
"You  needn't  think  you  kin  book- talk  me  into 
believin'  you  never  thought  Zem  was  your  com- 


SANDPEEP  149 

pany.  I  know'd  long  ago  what'd  come  of  Aunt 
Hit's  boardin'  thet  consumpted  school-teacher. 
The  very  day  he  came  I  sez  to  Zem:  'Zem,'  s'l, 
'you  jes'  mind  what  I  say:  Sandpeep  '11  git  idees/ 
s'l,  'now  they  hev  the  school-teacher  to  board; 
you  jes'  see  ef  she  won't  want  to  be  a  teacher 
too—" 

"Everybody  at  the  Cove  knows  that  father 
intended  I  should  be  a  teacher  when  I  grew  up," 
I  interrupted,  still  very  calm,  though  I  was  like 
boiling  lard  inside.  "If  he  had  lived,  he  would 
have  sent  me  to  a  school  where  I  could  have 
learned  to  be  one.  Even  if  Mr.  Merion  had  not 
come  to  our  house  and  given  me  lessons,  I  should 
have  managed  somehow  to  get  education  enough 
to  teach  the  Cove  school.  Goodness  knows  it 
doesn't  take  a  very  smart  person  to  do  that!" 

"Guess  you  must  cal'late  to  teach  school,  or 
little  boys,  all  the  rest  of  your  days,  ef  you're 
goin'  to  stay  single,"  she  allowed,  real  spiteful-like. 

"That  is  just  what  I  ' cal'late'  to  do,"  I  an- 
swered, and  her  face  got  red  as  fire  when  I 
mocked  her. 

"Think  you're  smart,  don't  you?"  she 
snapped.  "You're  very  independent  now,  Miss 
Sandpeep  Brenson,  with  your  pianny,  'n'  your 
rusticators.  But,  jes'  you  wait,  'n'  mind  what  I 
say:  The  day'll  come  when  you  would  be 
thankful  ef  Zem  would  hev  you.  But  he  ain't 
goin'  to  take  anybody's  leavin's,  Zem  hain't!" 


ISO  SANDPEEP 

"I  don't  understand  what  you  mean  by  'leav- 
ings,' Louine,"  I  said,  the  mad  inside  me  near  to 
boiling  over. 

"I  mean  jes'  e'zac'ly  what  I  say:  Zem  ain't 
goin'  to  take  anybody's  leavin's.  Ain't  every  last 
soul  at  the  Cove  sayin'  't  Sandpeep  Brenson's  set- 
tin'  her  cap  fur  thet  rusticator  't  was  to  meeting, 
Sunday?" 

A  knock  at  the  door  prevented  my  angry  reply 
and  the  quarrel  which  would  have  followed,  for  I 
just  wasn't  going  to  stand  any  more  of  Louine's 
hatefulness. 

It  was  Miss  Warrington.  The  sailing-party 
had  returned,  because  the  roughness  of  the  water 
had  made  Miss  Helmsley  seasick. 

I  guess  Miss  Warrington  saw  that  she  was 
just  in  time  to  prevent  a  squall,  but  she  nodded 
in  a  friendly  manner  to  Louine,  then  said  to  me: 

"I  came  up  to  see  if  your  friend  was  with  you, 
Miss  Brenson.  I  invited  her  to  stay  to  luncheon, 
and  thought  you  might  like  to  have  it  served  up 
here  where  you  may  enjoy  it  by  yourselves  — 
wouldn't  you?" 

Bless  her  kind  heart !  If  she  had  made  a  big  mis- 
take by  inviting  Louine,  she  had  done  so  thinking 
to  please  me.  I  thanked  her,  and  said  it  would  be 
lovely  to  have  luncheon  in  my  room  if  it  wouldn't 
be  too  much  trouble  for  James  to  bring  it  up ;  then 
she  said  to  Louine  —  I  guess  she  read  in  my  face 
that  I  wasn't  over-pleased  with  my  caller: 


SANDPEEP  151 

"If  you  would  like  to  drive  back  home,  Miss 
Haskell,  instead  of  going  in  the  boat  with  your 
brother,  one  of  the  coachmen  is  going  to  North 
Haven  in  half  an  hour,  and  will  take  you  to  the 
Cove.  Of  course  it  will  shorten  your  visit  to 
Miss  Brenson,  but — " 

"Guess  Miss  Brenson  'n'  Miss  Haskell  kin  say 
all  they  hev  got  to  say  to  each  other  by  the  time 
the  gentleman  is  ready  to  start  to  North  Haven," 
Louine  interrupted.  "And  anyhow,  I'd  ruther 
ride  in  a  kerridge  'n'  sail  —  sailin'  allus  makes 
me  sick  to  my  stummick." 

"Very  well;  I  will  tell  Malston  to  let  you  know 
when  he  is  ready  to  start,  and  send  James  up 
immediately  with  your  luncheon." 

I  followed  Miss  Warrington  to  the  door,  and 
kissed  her  hand  —  hard!  I  guess  she  understood. 
If  Louine' s  call  was  cut  short,  I  guess  it  gave  her 
enough  to  talk  about  for  the  rest  of  her  life.  I 
can't  say  what  a  relief  it  was  to  see  her  drive 
down  the  avenue  in  the  cart,  sitting  up  beside 
Malston,  with  her  hands  crossed  over  her  "stum- 
mick," just  as  if  she  was  having  her  picture 
taken. 


CHAPTER  XII 

NEARLY  everybody  had  finished  breakfast 
when  Miss  Helmsley  came  into  the  dining- 
room  on  Saturday  morning. 

"Am  I  very  late?"  she  asked,  in  her  pretty, 
drawling  way,  as  she  took  her  seat  next  to  Mr. 
Fairboro. 

"If  you  want  breakfast  you  are  late;  if  you've 
come  for  luncheon  you  are  too  early,"  her  brother 
answered.  He  is  always  plaguing  her.  "You 
must  have  burned  the  midnight  oil  last  night,  as 
well  as  our  host.  I  saw  light  in  his  windows 
'way  in  the  small  hours  of  the  night." 

"What  were  you  doing  up  at  that  hour?"  Mr. 
Fairboro  asked. 

"I  got  up  about  two  o'clock  to  close  my 
windows  —  the  surf  made  such  a  noise  —  and 
when  I  saw  that  you  were  wakeful,  too,  War- 
rington,  I  had  half  a  mind  to  pay  you  a  visit, 
and  suggest  a  friendly  pipe." 

"If  you  had  gone  to  that  room,"  answered  Mr. 
Warrington,  "you  would  have  found  that  you  were 
mistaken.  There  was  no  light  there  last  night.  I 
have  moved  my  quarters  over  to  the  tower  wing." 

"Then  someone  else  was  in  that  room,"  in- 
sisted Mr.  Helmsley,  "for  I  saw  the  light." 

152 


SANDPEEP  153 

"Did  anyone  occupy  my  old  room  last  night, 
Aunt  Elinor?"  Mr.  Warrington  asked. 

"Not  that  I  know!  I  can't  imagine  who  can 
have  been  there  —  if  Jack  really  saw  a  light." 

"//  I  really  saw  a  light!  Now  Miss  War- 
rington!" 

She  laughed,  then  apologized  for  doubting  his 
word,  and  Mr.  Warrington  asked  James,  who 
came  in  with  some  breakfast  for  Miss  Helmsley : 

"Were  you  in  my  room  over  the  billiard-room, 
late  last  night,  James?" 

"No,  sir;  I  heard  someone  —  it  was  after  mid- 
night —  stumble  over  the  rug  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  but  I  thought  it  must  be  one  of  the  gentle- 
men. " 

"Who  would  naturally  be  in  a  condition  to 
stumble  over  rugs  at  that  hour,"  Mr.  Fairboro 
allowed. 

"Rugs  on  a  polished  floor,"  said  Dr.  Parke, 
folding  his  napkin  carefully,  "are  man- traps, 
whatever  his  condition,  Car!  If  I  had  my  way, 
they  would  never  be  found  on  a  floor  unless  they 
were  nailed  down  hard  and  fast.  But  about 
this  mysterious  light,  Brian:  Are  you  perfectly 
sure  of  your  servants'  honesty?" 

"Perfectly!  They  have  been  in  our  service 
long  enough  to  have  been  thoroughly  tested  — : 

"Malston,"  interrupted  Miss  Warrington,  "the 
second  coachman,  is  the  only  one  who  has  not 
been  with  us  for  years;  but  Donald  says  he  is 


154  SANDPEEP 

perfectly  honest  and  trustworthy.  One  of  the 
maids,  or  Mrs.  Gilbert,  may  have  gone  to  that 
room,  though  I  cannot  imagine  what  would  take 
her  there.  I  will  make  inquiries  after  break- 
fast." 

I  was  on  my  way  to  the  "schoolroom,"  as  we 
call  the  small  chamber  in  the  tower-wing,  where 
Geoffrey  says  his  lessons  and  keeps  his  play- 
things, when  Miss  Warrington  called  to  me 
from  the  door  of  her  room.  I  went  back  and 
she  said: 

"Geoffrey  is  going  fishing  with  his  father  and 
Dr.  Parke,  Miss  Brenson,  so,  if  you  like,  you  may 
ride  as  far  as  the  Cove  with  Malston,  who  is 
going  to  drive  to  North  Haven  this  morning, 
instead  of  waiting  until  this  afternoon.  The  lad 
deserves  the  half-holiday  for  his  diligence  the  past 
week,"  she  added,  smiling. 

"He  has  been  a  very  good  boy  ever  since 
Bonny  came,"  I  allowed.  "The  dog  lies  outside 
the  schoolroom  door,  quiet  as  a  mouse,  until 
lessons  are  over,  then  you  ought  to  see  how 
nicely  he  plays  with  Geoffrey  on  the  lawn!  He 
is  a  splendid  playmate." 

"I  am  glad  the  dog  has  made  your  task  lighter, 
my  dear.  Now,  you  must  make  haste,  or  Mal- 
ston will  be  ready  to  start  before  you  are." 

She  went  into,  her  room,  and  I  ran  on  up  to 
my  own.  I  was  glad  of  the  unexpected  holiday, 
for  there  was  much  I  wanted  to  do  for  aunt. 


SANDPEEP  155 

Besides,  if  I  waited  until  afternoon,  Miss  War-- 
rington,  as  well  as  Zemro,  would  expect  me  to 
go  in  the  sloop. 

When  I  came  down  from  the  tower-top,  ready 
to  start,  the  cart  was  waiting  at  the  side  door. 
There  is  this  difference  between  me  and  the  Lodge 
folks;  they  always  start  from  the  front  door,  I, 
always  from  the  side.  I  never  knew  there  was  a 
difference  between  folks  until  I  came  here. 

Bonny  was  sitting  in  the  road  in  front  of  the 
horse,  looking  very  sober  and  dignified;  but 
when  we  started,  and  Malston  said:  "Come 
along,  old  fellow,"  he  frisked  around  and  barked, 
as  playfully  as  would  a  little  dog. 

"What  a  perfectly  splendid  dog  Bonny  is!"  I 
said,  as  he  raced  down  the  road  ahead  of  us. 

"Yes,  he  is  a  fine  animal,"  agreed  Malston, 
"but  if  what  they  say  at  the  stables  is  true,  he  is 
not  as  good  a  watch-dog  as  the  man  who  sold 
him  to  me  said  he  was." 

"What  do  they  say  at  the  stable?"  I  asked. 

"That  someone  broke  into  the  house  last  night, 
and  robbed  Mr.  Warrington's  room.  Hadn't  you 
heard  of  it?" 

"I  heard  one  of  the  gentlemen  say  at  breakfast 
that  he  saw  a  light  last  night  in  the  room  Mr. 
Warrington  used  to  sleep  in;  but  nothing  was 
said  about  a  robbery.  If  Mr.  Helmsley  really 
saw  a  light  in  the  room,  I  don't  think  a  stranger 
was  there." 


15$  SANDPEEP 

"What  makes  you  think  it  wasn't  a  stranger, 
Miss?" 

"  Because  a  stranger  couldn't  get  into  that 
house  with  every  door  bolted  and  Bonny  on 
watch." 

"A  burglar  who  knows  his  trade  can  get  into 
any  house,  Miss.  Locks  and  bolts  can't  keep 
him  out.  I  suppose  Mr.  Warrington  changed  his 
room  because  the  waves  make  such  a  noise  on 
that  side  of  the  house?  I  couldn't  sleep  there, 
either." 

I  wasn't  going  to  tell  him  why  Mr.  Warrington 
had  moved  over  to  the  tower-wing,  so  I  just  said : 

"The  waves  do  make  a  fearful  noise  some- 
times. That  is  how  Mr.  Helmsley  came  to  be 
awake  so  late,  and  to  see  the  light." 

After  several  seconds,  Malston  said  carelessly: 

"I  suppose  Mr.  Warrington  moved  over  to  the 
tower-wing  to  be  near  Master  Geoffrey,  as  much 
as  to  get  away  from  the  noise  of  the  waves?  He 
seems  very  fond  of  the  little  boy." 

"Why  shouldn't  he  be  fond  of  his  own  son?"  I 
answered.  "Geoffrey  is  a  very  pretty  boy,  even 
if  he  isn't  as  smart  as  he  might  be." 

"Yes,  he  is  a  pretty  child,"  agreed  Malston. 
After  a  few  minutes  he  said:  "I  am  so  happy, 
Miss;  my  sister  is  coming  to  live  with  me  in 
that  little  cottage  in  the  woods,  back  of  the 
Lodge  grounds.  You  know  where  it  is,  don't 
you?" 


SANDPEEP  157 

I  said  I  did;  and  wondered  that  anybody 
thought  of  living  in  the  old  house,  which  has  not 
been  occupied  as  long  as  I  can  remember.  The 
Cove  folks  say  it  is  "ha'nted"  and  that  spooks 
have  been  seen  there,  but  I  didn't  tell  Malston 
that. 

"  As  John  is  not  coming  back  this  summer,"  he 
went  on  to  explain,  "his  wife  is  too  sick,  I  be- 
lieve, I  am  to  have  his  place  while  the  family 
remains  here.  So  I  have  sent  for  my  sister,  who 
lived  with  me  in  Canada,  and  we  are  going  to  fix 
up  the  little  cottage,  and  make  our  home  there. 
My  sister,  Miss,  can  speak  French  and  would  be 
glad  to  teach  you,  if  you  still  want  to  learn." 

"And  I  should  just  love  to  take  lessons  if  Miss 
Warrington  wouldn't  object.  How  much  would 
she  charge?" 

"Nothing  at  all,  Miss;  she  would  consider 
your  company  for  an  hour  now  and  then  pay 
enough,  for  she  will  be  alone  all  day." 

I  was  tempted.  It  was  such  a  good  chance. 
I  thought  over  it  for  several  seconds,  then  said: 

"I  don't  believe  Miss  Warrington  would  ob- 
ject, if  I  promised  never  to  let  Geoffrey  know  I 
could  understand  him." 

"I  don't  believe  she  would,  Miss.  She  ought 
not  to  object  to  your  learning  what  would  be  of 
use  to  you  after  a  while.  You  will  be  teaching 
other  children  some  day,  and  will  need  to  know 
French." 


158  SANDPEEP 

"And  music,  too,"  I  added.  "I  should  like  to 
study  both  French  and  music." 

"My  sister  can  play  a  little  on  the  piano," 
Malston  allowed.  "She  is  out  of  practice,  of 
course,  for  we  haven't  a  piano  now;  but  I  think 
she  could  teach  you  what  she  knows." 

"Of  course  she  could!  and  she  may  practice 
all  she  wants  on  the  piano  in  my  room,"  I  said 
heartily.  "  I  know  Miss  Warrington  will  not  ob- 
ject to  music  lessons,  but  I  don't  think  I  ought  to 
ask  your  sister  to  do  so  much  for  me  without  pay." 

"Please  do  not  speak  of  paying  her,  Miss;  she 
would  be  hurt.  You  will  be  showing  her  a  great 
kindness  by  allowing  her  to  enjoy  your  society. 
My  dear  sister  is  not  what  you  would  expect  the 
sister  of  a  man  who  works  in  a  stable  to  be.  She 
is  quite  worthy  to  associate  with  ladies  like 
yourself." 

As  if  I  would  mind  that  she  was  poor,  and  the 
sister  of  a  man  that  worked  in  a  stable !  —  I,  who 
used  to  be  a  "codfish  snatcher,"  as  I  have  heard 
our  longshore  fishers  called ! 

"When  is  your  sister  coming?"  I  asked. 

"Next  week,  Miss.  I  am  having  a  man  fix  up 
the  cottage." 

"  Is  she  young  —  about  my  age  ?  " 

"Much  older,  Miss!  She  is  only  a  few  years 
younger  than  I  am." 

I  guess  he  didn't  tell  me  how  old  he  is,  because 
his  sister  doesn't  want  her  age  to  be  known; 


SANDPEEP  159 

some  folks  are  like  that;  aunt  —  and  she  ought 
to  know  —  says  Louine  Haskell  is  past  forty,  but 
Louine  gets  mad  as  fire  when  you  say  she's  more 
than  twenty-five. 

"Is  she  married  or  single?"  I  asked  Malston. 

"She  is  a  widow." 

"Poor  soul!    Has  she  any  children?" 

"She  lost  her  only  child,  a  beautiful  boy,  about 
a  year  ago." 

"Oh,  the  poor  soul!"  I  said  again.  "Where 
is  she  now?" 

"In  Montreal,  Miss,  where  Bonny  came  from." 

"Has  she  seen  the  dog?" 

"Yes,  Miss,  often;  he  knows  her  very  well." 

"That  is  good;  he  will  not  growl  at  her  when 
she  comes  to  the  tower  to  call  on  me." 

"No,  Miss,  he  won't  growl  at  her,"  Malston 
agreed,  and  he  added  after  a  minute:  "I  can't 
help  but  think  of  what  happened  last  night.  I 
would  not  have  believed  that  burglars  would 
think  it  worth  while  to  come  to  this  out-of-the- 
way  place.  Have  you  ever  heard  of  tramps  or 
burglars  here  before?" 

"I  have  never  heard  of  anyone  breaking  into 
any  of  the  houses  around  here,"  I  answered.  I 
wasn't  going  to  disobey  orders,  and  tell  him 
about  my  tramp.  "Indeed,  until  the  city  folks 
came  here  there  wasn't  anything  worth  stealing. 
A  burglar  wouldn't  need  to  break  into  a  Cove 
house;  we  never  think  of  locking  our  doors." 


i6o  SANDPEEP 

"When  people,"  Malston  allowed,  "are  so  par- 
ticular about  locking  up  everything,  you  may  be 
always  sure  there's  something  worth  stealing  — 
silver,  jewelry,  money,  and  other  valuables." 

Though  I  feel  sure  that  it  isn't  on  account  of 
the  valuables  in  the  Lodge  that  Mr.  Warrington 
is  so  particular  about  locking  the  doors,  I  didn't 
say  so  to  Malston;  and  neither  of  us  spoke  again 
until  we  got  to  the  wood-road.  I  wanted  to  walk 
the  rest  of  the  way  to  surprise  aunt,  who  wasn't 
expecting  me  so  early. 

"May  I  tell  my  sister  you  will  call  soon  to  see 
about  the  lessons?"  he  asked,  when  I  had  got 
down  from  the  cart. 

"You  may  tell  her  I  will  call;  but  don't  say 
anything  about  lessons  until  I  have  spoken  to 
Miss  Warrington." 

He  laid  his  fingers  against  his  hat  in  the 
funny  way  he  and  Donald  have  when  spoken 
to,  and  drove  on;  and  I  turned  into  the  wood- 
road. 

I  didn't  take  the  path  across  the  pasture,  for  I 
didn't  want  aunt  to  see  me;  but  stole  along  the 
fence  and  through  the  bushes  to  the  shed,  where 
I  took  off  my  hat,  pinned  up  the  skirt  of  my 
frock,  and  rolled  up  my  sleeves;  then,  with  the 
broom  and  the  scrubbing  pail  in  my  hands,  I 
walked  into  the  kitchen,  laughing  to  myself  at 
how  surprised  aunt  would  be.  But  she  wasn't  in 
the  kitchen  or  anywhere  about  the  house.  The 


SANDPEEP  161 

door  was  wide  open,  so  was  the  one  into  the 
spare-chamber,  but  no  Aunt  Hit  was  to  be  found. 

"I  don't  think  a  burglar  would  want  to  steal 
anything  here,"  I  said  to  myself,  after  I  had 
hunted  all  over  the  house,  as  if  aunt  was  a 
mouse,  and  could  hide  in  a  little  corner. 

As  I  hadn't  really  intended  to  scrub  with  my  good 
frock  on,  I  exchanged  it  for  the  old  one  I  always 
wear  to  work  in,  and  the  long  canvas  apron,  made 
out  of  one  ot  the  Keren's  old  sails,  and  got  to 
work,  determined  to  surprise  aunt  another  way; 
she  should  find  her  floors  nicely  scrubbed  when  she 
came  back,  and  the  scrubber  nowhere  in  sight! 

In  brushing  the  cobwebs  and  dust  from  the 
little  shelf  on  which  we  keep  the  two  or  three  old 
books  we  have  had  for  years,  one  of  them,  a 
government  book  about  fish,  that  somebody  sent 
to  father,  fell  on  the  floor,  and  all  the  things  be- 
tween the  leaves  were  scattered. 

"There!  I  do  seem  to  possess  the  gift  of  'clut- 
terin','  as  aunt  says!"  I  exclaimed,  vexed  at  hav- 
ing to  stop  to  pick  up  all  the  bits  of  ribbon,  cards, 
a  lock  of  yellow  hair  tied  with  a  red  string,  and 
lastly,  from  under  the  stove,  a  folded  paper. 

I  had  no  recollection  of  seeing  this  paper  be- 
fore, so  I  sat  back  on  my  heels  to  examine  it.  It 
was  a  certificate  of  marriage;  the  names  of  the 
bride  and  groom  were  Angela  Marcinet,  and  Brian 
MacGregor  Warrington.  It  was  signed  by  Elihu 
Willets,  Justice  of  the  Peace,  Headlands,  State 


162  SANDPEEP 

of  .Maine;   and   the  witness's  name  was  Peleg 
Brenson ! 

"Well,  of  all  things!"  I  exclaimed.  "How  in 
the  world  did  this  get  into  the  old  government 
book?  Angela  Marcinet  and  Brian  MacGregor 
Warrington.  I  wonder  —  yes  it  must  be  —  it  is 
Mr.  Lodge  Warrington;  and  Angela  Marcinet  was 
the  finger-ring  lady.  No  wonder  he  made  me 
think  of  the  fiddlestring  gentleman!  Well,  just 
can't  the  strangest  things  happen!  " 

I  forgot  all  about  surprising  aunt;  and, 
squatted  there  on  the  damp  floor,  thought  over 
the  discovery  I  had  made  and  wondered  I  had 
never  thought  of  it  before. 

"That  is  why,"  I  said  to  myself,  "Mr.  War- 
rington knew  so  well  where  I  lived,  the  day  he 
came  to  see  Zem.  I  might  have  guessed  he  was 
the  fiddlestring  gentleman,  when  he  told  aunt  he 
had  been  in  this  neighborhood  before,  though  he 
doesn't  look  much  like  the  tall  young  man  who 
drew  the  picture  of  the  'mermaid.'  If  Angela 
had  come  back,  I  feel  sure  I  should  have  known 
her.  There  would  be  no  moustache  to  change 
her  looks,  poor  pretty  lady!  And  to  think  she 
was  Geoffrey's  mother.  He  looks  like  her,  too; 
not  a  single  bit  like  Mr.  Warrington! 

".I  think  it  is  very  strange  he  never  spoke  of 
having  been  at  our  house  that  time.  I  dare  say 
it  grieves  him  too  much  to  think  of  the  lovely 
wife  he  has  lost.  Poor  gentleman!  How  very 


Well,  just  can't  the  strangest  tilings  happen  !  "     PAGE  162 


SANDPEEP  163 

strangely  things  come  about!  After  so  many 
years,  to  find  out  all  about  what  puzzled  me  more 
times  than  I  can  tell!"  I  didn't  know  what  I 
ought  to  do  with  the  certificate,  so  I  put  it  back 
in  the  book,  thinking  to  tell  Mr.  Warrington 
about  it  on  Monday. 

I  hadn't  quite  finished  my  work,  when  Zemro 
came  running  across  the  door-yard,  and  into  the 
kitchen.  I  was  surprised  to  see  him,  for  I  thought 
him  out  in  the  sloop  with  Mr.  Warrington  and 
the  doctor. 

"Gosh,  Sandpeep," — he  was  quite  out  of 
breath,  —  "  I'm  thankful  you're  to  home.  I  run  up 
here  like  a  scart  deer.  I  want  you  should  sail  the 
sloop.  Louine's  awful  sick,  —  reely  'n'  truly!  — 
took  a  bad  cold  yistiddy,  'n'  it's  settled  on  her 
chist;  you'll  come  right  away,  won't  you?  else 
he'll  git  mad  's  fire,  hevin'  to  wait." 

"How  did  you  know  I  was  here?"  I  asked. 

"I  found  out  you  hed  come  home,  when  I  went 
back  to  the  Lodge  fur  the  cod-lines  the  doctor'd 
forgot.  When  we  was  sailin'  past  the  Cove,  I 
see  Aunt  Hit  standin'  on  our  stoop,  a-wavin'  her 
apurn  like  she  was  possessed,  'n'  knowed  there 
was  something  the  matter,  'n'  ast  Mr.  Warrin'ton 
ef  I  might  come  ashore  'n'  see.  He  'lowed  I 
might,  though  I  could  see  he  wa'n't  pleased,  'n'  I 
rowed  ashore.  The  doctor  come  with  me,  'n'  he 
says  Louine's  got  plural  pneumony,  'n'  —  'n'  —  " 
gulping  down  a  sob  —  poor  boy,  he  is  fond  of 


164  SANDPEEP 

Louine,  if  she  is  disagreeable  —  "folks  die  when 
they  git  thet." 

"She  may  not  be  as  sick  as  you  think,  Zem," 
I  said,  taking  off  my  apron. 

"Yes,  she's  awful  sick.  I  know  by  the  way 
the  doctor  talked;  he  said  I  must  stop  to  home. 
So  I  want  you  should  sail  the  sloop.  I  wouldn't 
ast  you  ef  there  was  anybody  else  handy  enough 
to  git,  but  the  Cove  men's  all  out  mack'relin'. 
Do  hurry  up,  Sandpeep;  he'll  git  thet  all-fired 
mad  hevin'  to  wait  so  long." 

I  caught  my  sunbonnet  from  the  hook  behind 
the  kitchen  door,  where  aunt  keeps  it,  because, 
she  says,  it  looks  like  I  was  at  home,  and  ran 
with  Zem  down  the  path.  I  stopped  only  long 
enough  to  kiss  aunt,  and  hear  from  the  doctor 
that  Louine  was  really  very  poorly.  "You  can 
explain  to  Mr.  Warrington,"  he  added,  "why  I 
remain  here,  and  why  you  take  HaskelPs  place. 
The  young  man  is  needed  at  home." 

Then  I  ran  down  to  the  shore,  where  Zemro 
was  waiting  to  shove  out  the  dory;  as  he  did  so, 
he  said: 

"I'm  pow'ful  obleeged  to  you,  Sandpeep." 

"You  are  very  welcome,  I'm  sure,  Zem,"  I 
answered,  taking  my  seat,  and  adjusting  the 
oars.  "I  am  only  too  thankful  to  do  something 
in  return  for  the  many  favors  you  have  done  for 
me  and  aunt." 

His  face  brightened  as  the  water  does  some- 


SANDPEEP  165 

times,  when  the  sun  shines  suddenly  from  be- 
tween the  gray  clouds  of  a  squall. 

"Some  day,"  he  called  after  me,  as  I  pulled 
away,  "I  shell  ast  you  to  do  something  else  for 
me;  something  thet'll  pay  me  back,  'n'  more,  too, 
for  all  thet  I  ever  done  fur  you  'n'  Aunt  Hit." 

Poor  Zem!  Why  won't  he  understand  that  I 
cannot  —  will  not,  do  what  he  means  to  ask  me  ? 

When  I  stepped  on  board  the  sloop,  Mr.  War- 
rington,  who  looked,  if  not  exactly  "all-fired 
mad,"  very  much  out  of  patience,  asked  me  what 
had  happened.  Poor  little  Geoffrey  was  lying, 
pale  as  death,  on  the  thwart,  with  the  doctor's 
overcoat  over  him. 

"Louine  Haskell  is  very  sick,  sir,"  I  answered, 
while  making  fast  the  dory's  painter.  "Dr. 
Parke  told  me  to  tell  you  that  Zemro  would 
have  to  stay  at  home;  and  I  have  come  to  take 
his  place.  I  hope  you  won't  mind,  sir;  I  know 
how  to  sail  the  sloop  almost  as  well  as  he  does." 

"I  don't  doubt  your  ability,"  he  answered, 
looking  pleasanter.  "I  should  not  trouble  you 
to  sail  the  sloop  back  to  the  Lodge  if  my  son 
were  not  with  me;  but,  with  him  on  board,  I 
don't  care  to  undertake  it  by  myself.  I  have 
not  sailed  a  boat  since  I  was  a  lad  at  school." 

"I  am  sorry  you  and  the  doctor  will  not  have 
the  day's  fishing  you  planned,  sir,"  I  remarked, 
when  the  sails  were  set,  and  the  sloop  was  cut- 
ting through  the  water  like  a  duck. 


166  SANDPEEP 

"It  is  just  as  well,"  he  allowed,  looking  at 
Geoffrey.  "I  don't  believe  my  son  could  have 
stood  it  all  day;  he  is  very  sick  already." 

As  he  did  not  seem  to  want  to  talk,  I  decided 
to  wait  until  some  other  time  to  tell  him  about 
finding  the  certificate.  It  was  a  good  chance  for 
a  close  look  at  him,  for  his  eyes  were  watching 
the  water,  not  as  if  he  saw  it,  but  as  if  that  was 
as  good  a  place  as  any  other  to  stare  at  while 
his  thoughts  were  far  away.  I  wondered,  as  I 
looked  at  him,  why  I  had  not  recognized  him 
that  first  day  on  the  shore.  It  was  the  same 
face,  only  older,  of  course;  the  same  steel-gray 
eyes;  the  same  wrinkle  between  the  eyebrows, 
—  only  the  moustache  to  make  a  change  in  the 
face  of  the  fiddlestring  gentleman  I  remembered. 

"I  believe  you  told  me  Haskell  bought  this 
boat  from  you,  didn't  you?" 

He  asked  the  question  so  suddenly  that  I  al- 
most let  go  the  tiller. 

"Yes,  sir;  aunt  sold  it  to  him  when  I  gave  up 
fishing.  A  girl  can't  very  well  do  a  man's  work 
in  all  sorts  of  weather;  and  there's  not  much  to 
be  made  when  a  body  works  only  when  it  is  fair. 
We  hated  to  part  with  the  dear  old  sloop,  for  it 
seemed  almost  like  parting  with  father  over  again. 
He  built  her,  you  see.  But  selling  her  to  Zemro 
wasn't  nearly  so  bad  as  if  a  stranger  had  bought 
her  and  taken  her  away." 

"Doctor  Parke  has  told  me  of  your  brave  effort 


SANDPEEP  167 

to  follow  your  father's  calling,"  Mr.  Warrington 
remarked,  kindly.  "It  must  have  been  very  hard 
and  disagreeable  work  for  a  girl  like  you." 

"It  was  very  hard  sometimes;  but  I  didn't 
mind  it  in  fair  weather,  and  I  don't  believe  I 
would  have  given  it  up  if  aunt  hadn't  worried 
so  every  time  I  happened  to  be  caught  out  in 
a  storm.  One  afternoon,  late  in  October,  when 
we  may  look  out  for  gales  along  this  coast,  I  was 
over  near  the  islands,  lifting  lobster  traps,  and  a 
gale  rose  suddenly.  Before  I  could  reef  the  sail, 
the  sloop  was  blown  clean  out  to  sea.  I  dare  say 
I  should  never  have  been  heard  of  again  if  the 
light-keeper  on  Baker's,  who  was  out, •  too,  in 
his  boat,  hadn't  seen  me,  and  sailed  after  me. 
He  caught  up  with  me  just  in  time,  for  I  had 
sprained  my  wrist,  trying  to  haul  in  sail  in 
such  a  hurry,  and  couldn't  do  a  thing.  He 
took  me  home  with  him  and  made  me  stop 
with  his  wife  till  the  next  morning.  Of  course 
poor  aunt  thought  I  was  drowned,  and  she 
was  almost  out  of  her  mind.  She  wouldn't 
hear  to  my  going  out  fishing  again,  so  we  sold 
the  sloop  to  Zemro." 

I  didn't  tell  him  we  just  had  to  sell  her  to  get 
money  to  keep  us.  There  wasn't  any  other  way 
to  earn  a  living  but  fishing,  then;  rusticators 
weren't  as  "thick  as  blackberries,"  as  Zem  says. 
That  is  one  good  thing  they  have  done  for  us 
longshore  folks,  anyhow.  They  have  given  us 


168  SANDPEEP 

work,  and  we  ought  to  be  thankful,  instead  of 
growling  at  them  for  coming  here. 

I  shifted  the  boom;  then,  when  we  were  cut- 
ting along  again,  I  stole  a  look  at  my  silent  com- 
panion. I  could  see  only  the  lower  part  of  his 
face;  he  had  pulled  the  rim  of  his  cap  over  his 
eyes,  so  I  could  not  tell  from  his  chin  and  mous- 
tache whether  he  was  interested  or  not,  or, 
indeed,  whether  he  had  heard  me  at  all! 

"I  guess  this  tack  will  take  us  into  the  Lodge 
anchorage,"  I  allowed,  after  a  minute.  "We 
haven't  been  very  long  coming." 

"No,"  pushing  back  the  cap  from  his  eyes  to 
look  at  his  watch.  "The  sloop  is  running  like  a 
race-horse." 

"She's  a  smart  boat,  sir,"  I  answered  proudly. 
"Father  used  to  say  he'd  match  her  against  any 
racing  vessel,  and  would  win,  too.  He  was  very 
proud  of  her." 

"Yes,  I  heard  him  sing  her  praises." 

"Then  you  do  remember,  after  all,  sir?"  I 
exclaimed,  pleased  to  hear  him  say  that  he  did. 

"Yes,  I  remember." 

That  was  all  he  said,  and  the  way  he  said  it 
gave  me  to  understand  that  it  was  all  he  intended 
to  say  about  it.  So,  of  course,  the  time  to  tell 
him  about  the  certificate  hadn't  come  yet. 

When  we  were  nearing  the  Lodge  cove,  I  saw 
that  two  people  were  on  the  cliff  watching  us, 
and  told  Mr.  Warrington.  He  looked  at  them 


SANDPEEP  169 

through  his  double  spy-glass  —  he  calls  it  a 
"field-glass"  —  then  said:  "Miss  Helmsley  and 
Mr.  Fairboro." 

A  few  minutes  later  we  were  within  hailing 
distance  and  Mr.  Fairboro  called  through  his 
hands:  "What  has  happened?  Where  is  the 
doctor  and  your  skipper?" 

They  could  not  have  understood  Mr.  Warring- 
ton's  answer,  for  Mr.  Fairboro  came  running 
down  the  cliff-path  to  the  shore,  where  he  was 
waiting  when  we  rowed  in  from  the  sloop. 

After  Mr.  Warrington  told  him  what  had  hap- 
pened, he  said  to  me,  noticing  that  I  did  not 
get  out  of  the  dory  with  Mr.  Warrington  and 
Geoffrey:  "You  are  not  going  to  sail  home  by 
yourself,  are  you?" 

I  said  I  was,  and  Mr.  Warrington  added: 

"Miss  Brenson  can  manage  a  sailboat  as  skill- 
fully asHaskell— " 

"Then  I'll  ship  with  her  as  second  officer,"  Mr. 
Fairboro  interrupted,  and  was  going  to  step  into 
the  dory,  when  Mr.  Warrington  drew  him  back. 

"I  want  you  to  do  something  for  me,  Car,"  he 
said ;  and  before  Mr.  Fairboro,  who  looked  dread- 
fully vexed,  could  say  another  word,  I  pushed 
off.  I  could  hear  him  talk  in  an  angry  tone  as 
they  climbed  the  cliff-path,  and  I  laughed  to  my- 
self that  Mr.  Warrington  should  be  so  dreadfully 
afraid.  After  all  I  said  to  him,  to  still  believe 
I  would  set  my  cap  for  his  handsome  cousin! 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IT  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  I  got  back  to 
the  Cove.  Only  aunt  was  with  Louine.  The 

doctor  had  gone  back  to  the  Lodge  —  Mr.  War- 
rington  had  sent  a  horse  for  him  —  and  Zemro 
had  gone  to  fetch  his  cousin  from  the  Headlands. 

Louine  was  very  sick.  Her  face  and  hands 
were  hot  as  fire;  every  breath  seemed  to  give 
her  pain,  and  rattled  in  her  chest  and  throat. 

"She's  pow'ful  low,"  aunt  whispered,  as  we 
tiptoed  from  the  spare-chamber  into  the  kitchen; 
"She  ain't  long  fur  this  world;  I  heerd  an  owl 
screech  last  night." 

"Aunt  Hit  Brenson!"  I  exclaimed;  "as  if  owls 
didn't  screech  somewhere  every  night!" 

"An'  hain't  folks  dyin'  somewheres  every  day, 
I  want  to  know?" 

"Yes,  hundreds  of  them;  but  not  because  owls 
screech.  But  there!  don't  let  us  argufy;  I  am 
most  starved.  I  haven't  had  a  mite  to  eat  since 
breakfast.  I'll  run  over  home  and  get  some 
supper,  then  I'll  stay  with  Louine  until  Zemro 
comes  back.  You  must  be  pretty  tired,  you  poor 
dear!"  I  smoothed  the  thin  hair  back  from  her 
forehead,  and  added  —  the  idea  had  suddenly 
popped  into  my  head  —  "Aunt  dear,  if  I  make  a 

170 


SANDPEEP  171 

real  pretty  cap,  all  trimmed  with  lace  and  ribbon, 
will  you  wear  it?" 

"No,  mawm,  I  sha'n't,"  she  answered,  very  de- 
cidedly. 

"But  you  would  look  so  handsome  in  a  cap," 
I  urged. 

"You  go  'long  with  your  blarney,  Sandpeep 
Brenson,"  giving  me  a  push  with  her  elbow; 
"  's  ef  I  should  look  handsome  in  anything! 
Hain't  I  see  myself  in  a  lookin'-glass?" 

"You  would  look  handsome,"  I  insisted,  "and 
I  should  just  love  to  see  you  in  a  cap.  All  nice 
old  ladies  wear  caps.  Miss  Warrington  wears 
one  in  the  morning,  and  she's  lots  younger  than 
you.  And  then,  a  cap  would  hide  this  big  lump." 
I  softly  touched  my  ringer  to  the  unsightly  wen. 

"Ef  I  hed  stole  thet  lump,  Sandpeep  Brenson," 
she  allowed,  "mebbe  I  should  want  to  hide  it 
with  a  cap.  But  it  growed  there  of  itself,  'n'  I 
hain't  no  call  to  want  to  hide  it.  Jes'  so  long 's 
I  have  any  hair  on  my  old  head,  I  hain't  goin'  to 
wear  anything  on  it  'ceptin'  my  bunnit  when  I 
go  to  meetin'.  Now,  you  jes'  go  'long,  'n'  git 
you  something  to  eat." 

I  kissed  her  wrinkled  cheek,  and  left  the 
kitchen.  When  I  went  back,  Zemro  and  his 
cousin,  Acquia  Perkins,  were  there;  aunt  had 
gone  home.  Acquia,  with  her  sleeves  rolled  to 
her  elbows  and  the  skirt  of  her  frock  pinned  up 
under  a  big  apron,  was  bustling  about  in  the 


172  SANDPEEP 

helpful  way  of  some  women  who  know  just  what 
needs  to  be  done,  and  don't  stand  around,  "of 
no  more  use  than  a  bump  on  a  log,"  as  father 
used  to  say.  When  I  asked  Acquia,  who  was 
beating  up  something  in  a  dish,  if  there  was  any- 
thing I  could  do  to  help  her  —  I  guess  I  am  a 
"useless  bump" — I  ought  to  have  known  what 
to  do  without  asking  —  she  answered  briskly : 

"You  jes'  go  'n'  set  by  Louine  till  I  make  this 
poultice  'n'  git  some  supper  fur  Zemro.  Poor 
boy!  he'll  need  all  his  stren'th  fur  what's  comin'." 

"I'll  stay  with  you  all  night,  if  you  like,"  I 
said.  I  didn't  want  to  stay,  but  I  felt  that  it 
was  my  duty. 

"Guess  you  hed  better.  Zemro's  dog-tired, 
'n'  hed  ought  to  git  some  rest.  You  'n'  me  kin 
take  turn  about  tendin'  to  Louine." 

I  made  up  my  mind  to  do  the  best  I  could, 
and  went  into  the  spare-chamber  to  sit  by  Louine. 
Her  eyes  were  shut;  one  hand  clutched  at  the 
quilt  over  her  chest,  as  if  she  wanted  to  pull  it 
off;  the  other  was  lying  on  the  pillow  above  her 
head.  Her  breathing  sounded  just  dreadful.  I 
touched  the  hand  on  the  pillow,  to  feel  if  it  was 
hot.  She  opened  her  eyes  and  stared  wildly  at 
me,  as  if  she  didn't  know  me. 

"Raise  up  my  head,"  she  gasped. 

I  did  so  and  put  another  pillow  under  her. 

"Hes  Zem  —  fetched  —  thet  guggle  fur  —  my 
throat?"  she  asked,  hardly  able  to  speak. 


SANDPEEP  173 

I  couldn't  see  anything  that  looked  like  a  gar- 
gle on  the  table  by  the  bedside,  and  said  I  would 
ask  Zemro. 

"  No  —  no  —  I  want  you  —  should  stay  here ! " 
She  caught  my  hand,  drew  me  nearer,  and  began 
to  talk  again  in  such  a  low  whisper  that  I  had  to 
put  my  ear  close  to  her  lips  to  hear: 

"I  hev —  something  I  —  want  to  —  say  to  you. 
I  want  you  should — "  such  a  terrible  spell  of 
coughing  interrupted  her  that  I  was  afraid  she 
would  choke. 

"Don't  try  to  talk,  Louine,"  I  begged.  "I  am 
going  to  stay  here  all  night.  You  will  be  better 
by  morning;  then  you  can  tell  me  what  you 
want  me  to  do  for  you." 

"  'Tain't  fur  —  me  —  it's  fur  Zem.  I  want  you 
should  promise  —  Zem  won't  hev  no  one  —  when 
I'm  gone,  'n'  I  want  you  —  promise  —  to  —  to — " 

Another  fit  of  coughing  prevented  her  from 
saying  what  it  was  she  wanted  me  to  do;  but  I 
guessed  it,  and  not  even  the  pity  I  felt  could 
have  forced  me  to  promise  I  would  do  what  she 
asked. 

"Please  don't  try  to  talk  any  more  now, 
Louine,"  I  interrupted,  when  she  began  again. 
"The  doctor  says  you  must  keep  very  quiet.  If 
you  talk,  you  excite  yourself,  and  that  makes 
your  cough  worse." 

"I  will  git  excited  —  I  will  git  worse  —  I  will  jes' 
die  ef  you  won't  promise  —  I  tell  you  —  I  will  —  " 


174  SANDPEEP 

Again  the  cough,  and  this  time  it  was  so  severe 
I  was  sure  she  would  die.  I  ran  to  the  door  and 
called  Acquia. 

" Oh  —  come,  come  —  quick!  Louine  is  chok- 
ing. I. am  dreadfully  scared,"  and  I  was  near  to 
crying. 

"Yes  —  yes  —  I  was  jes'  comin'  with  the 
poultice,"  she  answered,  bustling  into  the  room. 
"  Guess  'tain't  's  bad 's  you  think,  child.  You're 
jes'  like  all  girls,  easy  scart.  'Tain't  everybody 
takes  to  sick-nussin'  nat'ral-like.  You  wash  up 
them  dishes,  'n'  tend  to  Zemro,  'n'  I'll  stay  with 
Louine.  Guess  you  won't  be  scart  of  him!"  she 
added,  with  a  smile  that  made  my  face  redden. 

When  I  had  wiped  the  dishes  and  put  them 
back  on  the  table  under  the  netting,  I  went  out 
to  the  stoop.  Zemro  was  coming  in  with  an  arm- 
ful of  wood.  He  stopped  to  ask  in  a  low,  anxious 
tone  how  Louine  was;  he  had  been  crying,  I 
could  tell  by  his  eyes. 

"About  the  same,"  I  answered.  "Acquia  is 
putting  the  poultice  on  her  chest." 

After  he  had  laid  the  wood  in  the  box  carefully, 
stick  by  stick,  and  not  all  at  once,  as  at  other 
times,  he  tiptoed  out  to  the  stoop,  and  sat  down 
beside  me. 

"Did  he  jaw  th'  safternoon?"  he  asked,  smooth- 
ing Louine's  kitty,  which  was  cuddled  on  my  lap. 

"Of  whom  are  you  speaking?"  I  asked,  "book- 
talking"  on  purpose,  for  I  felt  vexed. 


SANDPEEP  175 

"Why,  Mr.  Warrin'ton,  of  course." 

"Then  why  didn't  you  say  so?  How  am  I  to 
know  of  whom  you  are  speaking,  with  your  'lies' 
and  'hirns'?" 

"You  hedn't  ought  to  be  snappy  to  me  now, 
Sandpeep,"  he  said,  and  he  looked  as  if  he  were 
going  to  cry. 

It  was  mean  of  me,  when  he  was  in  such 
trouble,  so  I  said  in  a  kinder  tone: 

"Mr.  Warrington  didn't  'jaw,'  as  you  call  it. 
He  wouldn't  be  likely  to  mind  your  staying  at 
home  when  your  sister  is  so  sick.  He  is  a  very 
kind-hearted  gentleman." 

"Guess  he  senses  there's  something  between 
you  'n'  me,"  Zemro  allowed,  after  a  minute. 

It  made  me  cross  again. 

"If  Mr.  Warrington  senses  that,  he  is  not  as 
smart  as  I  think  he  is,"  I  snapped.  "  I  wish  you 
wouldn't  talk  so  silly,  Zemro.  There  isn't  anything 
between  me  and  you,  and,  what's  more,  there 
never  will  be." 

"Be  you  reely  'n'  truly  in  airnest,  Sandpeep?" 
looking  at  me  with  sorrow  and  anger  in  his  face. 

"I  am  really  and  truly  in  earnest." 

"  'N'  I  hain't  no  more  to  you  'n'  any  other  of 
the  fellows  'round  here?" 

"I  won't  say  that,  Zem,  for  I  like  you  a  good 
deal  better  than  any  of  the  other  boys.  I  like 
you  just  as  I  would  a  brother  if — " 

"Brother   be  dummed!"  he  interrupted,   and 


176  SANDPEEP 

wickedly  kicked  into  the  grass  a  poor  toad  that 
had  hopped  to  the  stoop  after  a  bug.  "I  don't 
want  to  be  no  brother  to  you,  Sandpeep.  All 
the  Cove  folks  say  't  you  'n'  me's  promised. 
Mandy  Bascom  told  Louine  yistiddy  thet  Mis' 
Higgins  hed  ast  her  how  soon  you  'n'  me  cal'- 
lated  gittin'  spliced." 

-I  was  too  angry  to  answer  kindly,  and  deter- 
mined not  to  quarrel  with  him  then;  so  I  just 
didn't  say  anything. 

Zemro  misunderstood  my  silence  and  he 
went  on: 

"Even  ef  Louine  should  git  well  again,  which 
I'm  afeerd  she  won't," — gulping  down  a  sob, — 
"I  know  she'd  be  willin'  you  should  hev  command 
of  the  cow,  'n'  the  pig,  'n'  the  hens,  'n'  only  ast 
to  hev  leave  to  sell  the  bossies  to  the  bootcher, 
fur  her  share;  'n'  I — " 

"Oh,  do  stop!"  I  interrupted,  jumping  up  so 
suddenly  that,  for  once,  a  pussy-cat  didn't  fall  on 
her  feet.  "I  won't  listen  to  another  word,  now 
or  ever  again." 

I  felt  as  if  I  should  choke  if  I  kept  back  the 
angry  words  which  crowded  to  my  lips;  so  I  ran, 
fast  as  I  could,  across  the  pasture,  into  the  wood- 
road,  where  the  swamp-robins  and  peabody- 
birds  were  singing  their  evening  song  in  the 
tree-tops. 

It  was  already  quite  dark  in  the  narrow  road, 
and  with  tears  blinding  my  eyes,  I  could  hardly 


SANDPEEP  177 

see  where  I  stepped ;  so  I  sat  down  on  a  big  rock 
by  the  side  of  the  road,  to  have  my  cry  out  where 
nobody  could  hear  or  see  me. 

I  must  have  made  considerable  noise,  for  I 
never  heard  aunt  come  stumbling  over  the  rocks 
and  splashing  through  the  puddles  until  she  was 
close  beside  me. 

"Why,  Sandpeep!  Is't  you  thet's  cryin'  out 
here  all  by  yourself?"  She  squeezed  down  on 
the  rock  beside  me,  and  began  to  pat  my  shoulder 
as  she  used  to  when  I  was  a  tiny  girl,  and  had 
hurt  myself.  "What  be  you  cryin'  fur?  Did 
you  hurt  you?" 

"No  —  no!"  was  all  the  answer  I  could  give. 

"Guess  you're  scart,"  she  allowed,  after  a 
minute;  "I  hedn't  ought  to  let  you  go  back  to 
Louine's.  I  hed  ought  to  knowed  you  couldn't 
stand  bein'  'round  sick  folks.  You  jes'  come  along 
home,  now,  'n'  I'll  make  you  a  cup  of  mint  tea." 

Soon  I  grew  calm  enough  to  say:  "I'm 
ashamed  of  myself,  aunt;  but  I  couldn't  help 
it,  I  felt  so  dreadfully." 

"Jes'  so,"  she  agreed.  "I  know  jes'  how  you 
felt,  dearie.  I  hev  felt  the  same  way,  'n'  hev 
cried,  too,  jes'  like  I  hed  the  sturricks." 

I  wonder  if  ever  the  dear  old  soul  had  hysterics 
because  somebody  wanted  her  to  take  command 
of  his  cow,  and  pig,  and  hens? 

The  sound  of  wheels  bumping  along  the  road 
made  us  get  up  from  the  rock  and  step  into  the 


i?8  SANDPEEP 

bushes,  to  let  the  wagon  pass.  It  was  a  buggy, 
and  in  it  were  Dr.  Parke  and  Mr.  Fairboro.  I 
told  aunt  to  keep  still,  and  they  would  not 
see  us. 

Bumpity-bump !  swish-swash!  over  the  rocks, 
into  the  puddles,  went  the  wheels. 

"Well,  this  is  certainly  the  very  worst  road  I 
ever  travelled  over!"  Mr.  Fairboro  exclaimed, 
and  directly  afterward  came  a  sound  as  of  some- 
thing breaking.  "There,  something's  busted!" 

Something  had  "busted,"  sure  enough.  The 
buggy  stopped  in  front  of  our  hiding  place,  and 
Mr.  Fairboro  jumped  out,  right  into  a  big  pud- 
dle, I  could  tell  from  the  squashy  sound. 

"I'll  be  condemned!"  he  exclaimed  —  I  could 
hardly  keep  from  laughing  when  I  heard  Zem- 
ro's  favorite  swear  word  —  "My  precious  patent 
leathers  are  ruined!" 

"Serves  you  right!"  said  the  doctor  with  a 
laugh;  "I  warned  you  not  to  come.  Now  that 
you  are  in  the  mire,  just  stay  there  long  enough 
to  examine  the  broken  spring.  See  if  it  will  bear 
our  weight  to  the  Cove." 

Through  the  branches  I  could  see  Mr.  Fairboro 
stoop  and  fumble  with  his  hands  under  the  buggy. 

"I  can't  find  the  break.  It's  too  dark  to  see, 
and  I  haven't  a  single  match.  Have  you  any?" 

"No  —  left  them  in  my  other  coat.  Do  you 
think  we  might  venture  further  without  breaking 
down  entirely?" 


SANDPEEP  179 

"I  can't  tell.  We  had  better  lighten  the  load. 
You  drive  on,  and  I'll  wait  around  here  until 
you  come  back.  I  want  to  hear  the  New  England 
nightingale,  anyhow.  I  have  been  told  that  the 
peabody-bird  sings  here  quite  late  in  the  evening." 

"You  can't  make  me  believe  it's  the  peabody- 
bird  you  want  to  hear  —  you  flirtatious  young 
rascal!"  came  the  laughing  reply  from  the  buggy. 

"Can't  a  fellow  interest  himself  in  ornithology 
without  being  accused  of  ulterior  motives  ?  " 

Mr.  Fairboro  is  as  good  at  book-talking  as  Mr. 
Merion,  and  I  could  not  have  guessed  what  he  was 
talking  about,  if  I  hadn't  heard  the  doctor  say: 

"Ornithology!  As  if  I  didn't  know  what  sort 
of  bird  you  were  after,  when  you  persisted  in 
accompanying  me  to  the  Cove!" 

"What  a  clever  guesser  you  are,  Cousin  Lem- 
uel! That  comes  of  foregathering  with  Yankees! 
But  you  had  better  drive  on;  your  patient  may 
be  in  extremis  while  you  are  loitering  here!  I 
dare  say  that  bass-bellowing  skipper,  Haskell, 
can  help  you  patch  up  the  broken  spring,  so  that 
it  will  carry  us  back  to  the  Lodge." 

"I'll  attend  to  the  spring,  my  lad,  and  let  me 
tell  you,  that  if  you  follow  the  quarry  you  are 
after  too  closely,  I  shall  have  an  account  to  settle 
with  you.  If  I  don't  find  you  waiting  for  me  at 
a  convenient  place  along  the  road,  you'll  foot  it 
back  to  the  Lodge,  or  stay  here  all  night,  hunt- 
ing peabody-birds ! " 


i8o  SANBPEEP 

"Not  a  very  disagreeable  punishment,  if  I 
happen  to  bring  down  my  bird!"  answered  Mr. 
Fairboro,  laughing  gaily.  Then,  bumpity-bump, 
swish-swash,  the  buggy  went  on  its  way,  the 
foot-traveller  following. 

We  waited,  still  as  two  mice,  until  both  the  gen- 
tlemen were  out  of  hearing.  Then  aunt  allowed, 
as  we  stepped  into  the  road: 

"Guess  it's  patridges  thet  rusticator's  after, 
'ste'd  of  peabody-birds,  which  hain't  no  bigger  'n 
a  bumble-bee  when  their  feathers  is  off  'n'  they're 
skun.  If  he  wants  to  git  patridges,  he  hed  ought 
to  come  in  daytime  'n'  fetch  a  gun,  ste'd  of  hunt- 
in'  fur  'em  after  night,  'n'  nawthin'  to  ketch  'em 
with." 

Dear,  unsuspicious  old  soul!  If  she  didn't 
know  what  sort  of  bird  Mr.  Fairboro  was  after, 
I  did;  and  I  made  up  my  mind  he  shouldn't 
"bring  it  down." 

"Don't  let's  go  home  yet,  aunt,"  I  said,  link- 
ing my  arm  in  hers.  "It  isn't  too  late  to  go  and 
see  Clara- John's  baby.  I  haven't  seen  it  for  a 
month.  Come!" 

I  drew  her  into  one  of  the  many  foot-paths 
which  cut  through  the  woods  in  all  directions  — 
all  of  them  so  familiar  to  us  Cove  folks  that  we 
don't  need  a  lantern  to  find  them,  especially  if 
the  stars  are  sparkling  like  diamonds  in  a  clear 
sky. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

I  DID  not  get  back  to  the  Lodge  until  Wednes- 
day, for  Louine  crossed  the  dark  river  early 
on  Monday  morning,  and  Miss  Warrington 
sent  me  word  to  stay  until  after  the  funeral. 

I  don't  believe  I  shall  ever  get  over  Louine's 
death.  I  feel  as  if  I  were  to  blame  for  it,  because 
I  would  not  promise  to  do  what  she  asked  me. 
Perhaps,  if  Mr.  Merion  had  not  taught  me  to 
think,  I  might  have  been  able  to  promise.  But 
now?  I  know  I  am  "not  a  mite  better  than 
Zemro"  —  as  his  cousin  Acquia,  who  is  dread- 
fully put  out  with  me,  said  —  but  I  just  couldn't 
endure  the  thought  of  living  with  him  all  my  days. 
I  would  rather  a  hundred  times  fish  and  set  lob- 
ster traps  in  the  worst  storms,  than  have  nothing 
at  all  to  do  as  Zemro' s  "  woman,"  —  nothing  but 
to  "command  his  cow  and  the  pig!  " 

When  I  was  coming  up  the  avenue,  I  met 
Malston  with  a  big  basket  on  his  arm.  He  took 
off  his  hat,  and  said  he  was  glad  to  see  me 
back.  I  asked  him  if  his  sister  had  come. 

"Yes,  Miss,  she  arrived  yesterday.  Mrs.  Gilbert 
has  kindly  sent  her  these  eatables,  as  our  stove 
has  not  yet  been  sent  from  the  Headlands.  You 
have  had  a  death  in  your  neighborhood,  I  hear?  " 

181 


182  SANDPEEP 

I  nodded  yes,  and  looked  serious. 

"It  is  sad  to  lose  a  dear  friend,"  he  allowed, 
and  looked  serious,  too;  but  the  next  minute  he 
asked  if  he  might  tell  his  sister  that  I  thought  of 
taking  French  lessons  from  her. 

"Not  until  I  have  spoken  to  Miss  Warrington 
about  it,"  I  told  him.  "But  I  will  call  to  see  her 
even  if  I  don't  take  lessons." 

"Thank  you,  Miss.  If  it  is  not  asking  too  much, 
will  you  please  bring  Master  Geoffrey  with  you? 
You  remember  I  told  you  she  had  lost  her  own 
little  boy?" 

"Yes,  I  remember,"  I  answered,  and  my  own 
sore  heart  made  me  sorry  for  the  poor  childless 
widow.  "I  will  ask  Miss  Warrington.  What  is 
her  name?" 

"Makart  —  Mrs.  Makart" 

"Thank  you.     Tell  her  I  shall  call  very  soon." 

He  bowed  very  politely  and  went  his  way. 

Geoffrey  and  his  dog  were  playing  on  the  ter- 
race, and  they  made  such  a  fuss  over  me  that  the 
noise  brought  Miss  Warrington  to  the  window. 

"Why,  Miss  Brenson!  is  it  you  who  is  caus- 
ing such  an  uproar?"  she  said,  smiling.  "If  I 
had  known  you  intended  to  return  to-day,  I  should 
have  sent  the  cart  for  you.  Dr.  Parke  told  me 
I  need  not  look  for  you  until  to-morrow." 

"I  told  him  I  wouldn't  be  here  until  to-morrow, 
but,  as  I  wasn't  needed,  I  thought  I  might  as  well 
come  to-day." 


SANDPEEP  183 

I  didn't  tell  her  that  I  couldn't  stay  longer 
where  Acquia  Perkins  kept  glowering  at  me  all 
the  time,  and  Zemro  kept  making  me  cry,  by 
looking  as  if  he  didn't  have  a  thing  to  live  for. 

"Well,  I  am  glad  you  are  here!"  Miss  War- 
rington  allowed.  "Janet  and  I  have  had  our 
hands  full  with  your  exacting  pupil.  Did  the 
doctor  tell  you  that  he  and  I  are  the  only  mem- 
bers of  the  family  left  at  the  Lodge?" 

"He  told  me  nearly  everybody  had  gone  off 
on  a  yacht." 

"The  Kelpie;  she  will  return  to-morrow  or 
Friday,  and  Mr.  Amberly,  the  owner  of  the  yacht, 
with  his  daughters  and  several  friends,  will  spend 
a  week  or  two  here.  So,  as  Janet  will  be  obliged 
to  assist  the  other  maids,  you  will  have  the  sole 
care  of  your  pupil,  during  the  day  and  evening, 
at  all  events.  I  imagine  you  will  not  want  to  go 
home  again  on  Saturday?" 

"No  —  no  —  not  if  I  am  needed  here,"  I 
answered,  though  I  had  intended  to  ask  if  I 
might  go  to  meeting  on  Sunday  morning. 

She  noticed  my  hesitation  and  said  that  if  it 
was  necessary  she  would,  of  course,  manage  with- 
out me. 

"It  isn't  really  necessary,"  I  answered.  "Only 
I  promised  Zemro,  who  is  at  our  house  now, 
that  I  would  come  to  meeting  on  Sunday.  The 
poor  boy  is  so  lonely,  I  pity  him."  She  looked  at 
me  as  if  she  were  trying  to  see  what  was  at  the 


184  SANDPEEP 

back  of  my  mind.  Then  she  said,  in  the  kind 
way  she  would  speak  to  a  daughter:  "My  dear 
child,  I  think  it  would  be  unwise  to  go  home 
just  because  the  bereaved  young  man  asked  you 
to  come.  Often  a  folly  is  committed  through 
pity,  which  is  regretted  bitterly  afterward.  Do 
you  understand?" 

"Yes,  I  think  I  do;  but,  if  pity  could  make 
up  for  a  great  cruelty,  I  know  I  could  endure  the 
regret.  It  would  be  only  the  punishment  I 
deserve." 

"What  cruelty  can  you  be  guilty  of,  you  tender- 
hearted child?"  she  asked,  smiling. 

I  told  her  what  Louine  had  begged  me,  with 
almost  her  last  breath,  to  promise,  and  that  I 
was  sure  my  refusal  had  made  her  worse. 

"If  you  had  given  your  promise,  could  you 
have  fulfilled  it?"  she  asked,  and  looked  at  me 
earnestly. 

"I  should  have  tried;  the  thought  that  I  had 
brightened  the  last  hours  of  a  dying  woman 
would  have  helped  me." 

"You  strange  creature!"  she  said,  oh,  so 
kindly,  and  she  squeezed  my  hard,  brown  hands 
between  her  own  little  soft,  white  ones;  "you  are 
in  too  gloomy  a  mood  now  to  view  this  matter 
in  a  proper  light.  You  will  think  differently 
later.  Banish  every  self-accusing  thought  about 
Miss  Haskell's  selfish  request.  Your  refusal  had 
nothing  to  do  with  hastening  her  death.  Dr. 


SANDPEEP  185 

Parke  told  me  there  was  no  hope  from  the  first. 
The  severe  cold  she  caught  through  her  own  im- 
prudence resulted  in  pneumonia.  Come,  let  us 
talk  about  something  else.  I  want  you  to  take 
a  message  to  that  cottage  in  the  woods  outside 
the  park.  Malston  has  rented  it,  and  brought 
his  sister  there  to  keep  house  for  him." 

"Yes,  I  know;  he  told  me,"  I  interrupted. 

"Well,  the  woman  had  to  sleep  on  a  bed  made 
of  pine  boughs  last  night,  because  the  furniture 
Malston  bought  at  the  Headlands  was  not  sent 
down  yesterday.  I  want  you  to  tell  her  that,  if  it 
does  not  arrive  to-day,  she  must  sleep  at  the  Lodge 
until  it  does  come." 

"Mrs.  Makart  —  that  is  her  name  —  can  play 
the  piano,"  I  told  her. 

"Indeed?" 

"Yes,  so  Malston  told  me;  he  said  they  had 
not  been  poor  always  and  that  bad  luck  forced 
him  to  work  in  a  stable.  I  guess  his  sister  must 
be  real  smart;  she  can  speak  French,  too." 

"She  must  be  ' smart'  indeed!  Has  she  other 
accomplishments  ?  Does  she  sing  ?  —  dance  ?  " 

Miss  Warrington's  eyes  were  twinkling,  but 
I  didn't  mind;  I  thought  it  too  good  a  chance 
to  speak  to  her  about  the  lessons. 

"I  don't  know,"  I  answered.  "Malston  didn't 
mention  anything  but  the  piano  and  French.  I 
wonder  if  you  would  mind  if  I  took  music  lessons 
from  her?" 


i86  SANDPEEP 

"Why  should  I  mind?  Take  lessons  if  you 
wish,  child."  She  must  be  able  to  see  what  is 
at  the  back  of  a  body's  mind,  for  she  added: 

"  I  dare  say  you  would  like  to  learn  French,  too  ?  " 

"Indeed  I  should,  dear  Miss  Warrington.  I 
want  to  learn  everything  a  first-class  teacher 
ought  to  know.'' 

"Is  it  necessary  for  the  teachers  down  here 
to  teach  French  and  music?"  she  asked. 

"No,  but  I  might  get  a  school  away  from  here, 
where  the  pay  is  better." 

"Very  well;  learn  all  you  can,  only  keep  in 
mind  my  injunction  not  to  let  your  little  charge 
know  that  you  are  studying  French." 

"I  will  remember,  dear  Miss  Warrington,  and 
I  thank  you  more  than  I  can  say.  May  I  speak 
to  Mrs.  Makart  about  the  lessons  to-day?" 

"Yes;  it  will  give  you  something  else  to  think 
about  than  your  'cruelty'  to  Miss  Haskell  and 
your  pity  for  her  brother!  " 

The  narrow  lane,  hardly  wider  than  a  foot- 
path, which  turns  off  from  the  main  road  just 
outside  the  Lodge  gates  and  runs  through  the 
thick  woods  to  the  old  cottage,  is  so  overgrown 
with  tall  weeds  and  briars  that  I  could  hardly 
force  my  way  through  them. 

I  had  gone  about  half  way,  when  I  met  a  jig- 
ger coming  down  the  lane  and  had  to  step  into 
the  bushes  to  let  it  pass.  I  asked  one  of  the  men 
in  it  if  he  had  brought  Mr.  Malston's  furniture. 


SANDPEEP  187 

"Yaas  —  be  you  acquainted  with  them  folks 
to  the  cottage?"  he  asked,  and  stopped  the 
horses. 

"I  am  acquainted  with  the  gentleman,"  I 
answered. 

"Sort  of  cu'rus,  ain't  they?  " 

"What  is  curious  about  them?  " 

"They  jabber  like  two  poll-parrots,  V  don't 
say  a  word  a  body  kin  make  head  nur  tail  of. 
Furriners,  I  cal'late?" 

"They  are  from  Canada,  and  speak  French," 
I  told  him. 

"Is  he  her  man?"  he  asked,  bending  over  to 
break  off  a  birch  twig,  from  which  he  began  to 
strip  the  leaves. 

"No,  he  is  her  brother." 

"Couldn't  see  what  she  looks  like,  nor  ef  she's 
old  or  young;  she  hes  her  head  'n'  face  all 
kivered  up  with  some  black  stuff,  's  ef  she  was 
af eared  of  ketchen'  the  laygrip." 

"I  shouldn't  admire  to  reeside  in  thet  old 
dwellin',"  the  other  man  said,  and  he,  too,  broke 
a  twig  and  stripped  off  the  leaves  —  longshore 
folks  don't  seem  able  to  talk  unless  they  are 
whittling,  or  stripping  leaves  —  "don't  guess  they 
hevheerd  it'sha'nted." 

"Hain't  scared  of  sperrits,  dessay,"  the  driver 
allowed,  and  slapped  his  horses  with  the  reins 
to  make  them  move  on. 

Of  course,  as  the  furniture  had  come,  there 


188  SANDPEEP 

was  no  need  for  me  to  go  on  to  the  cottage;  but 
I  was  anxious  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Makart  about 
the  lessons.  So  I  went  on  and  soon  got  to  the 
cottage,  which  is  almost  hidden  in  a  tangle  of 
vines  and  tall  weeds.  The  kitchen  stove  was 
already  set  up,  for  smoke  was  coming  out  of 
the  chimney,  from  which  a  half-dozen  or  more 
bricks  have  fallen  and  are  lying  on  the  moss- 
covered  roof.  Malston  had  better  get  some 
shingles  for  a  new  roof,  and  mend  the  chimney, 
and  clear  the  weeds  out  of  the  door-yard,  or  not 
even  the  "sperrits"  that  "ha'nt"  the  old  house 
will  care  to  stay  in  it. 

The  front  door  was  open,  and  when  I  stepped 
up  to  the  stoop,  I  saw  some  of  the  furniture 
the  jigger  had  brought,  in  the  front  room.  The 
door  into  the  kitchen  was  partly  open  and  I 
could  hear  someone  walking  about.  I  also  heard 
the  sound  of  wood-chopping  at  the  back  of  the 
house. 

I  didn't  think  it  was  necessary  to  knock  at 
an  open  door  —  we  Cove  folks  don't  even  knock 
at  one  that's  shut,  when  we  make  a  neighborly 
call  —  and  I  was  crossing  the  floor  toward  the 
kitchen,  when  I  heard  a  woman's  voice  say: 

"When  did  you  say  the  governess  was  coming 
back?" 

"She  came  back  to-day;  I  met  her  on  my 
way  here,"  Malston' s  voice  answered  from  the 
back  yard. 


SANDPEEP  189 

"Did  you  ask  her  to  bring  the  boy  to  see  me?  " 

"Yes." 

"I  hope  she  will  bring  him  soon  —  I  can't 
wait  much  longer." 

I  was  going  to  open  the  door,  when  Malston's 
next  words  made  me  stop  where  I  was.  "Now, 
Lina,"  he  said,  very  sharply,  "you  will  spoil 
everything  with  your  impatience.  You  must 
try  to  be  satisfied  with  being  where  you  can  see 
the  boy  every  day  or  so.  Don't  you,  too,  begin 
to  make  trouble  for  me.  I  have  enough  already 
trying  to  prevent  Andray  from  making  a  mess 
of  the  whole  business." 

"Has  he  been  doing  anything  else?" 

"Not  since  that  night." 

"I  dare  say  they  would  have  sent  him  to 
prison,  if  they  had  caught  him." 

"Certainly  they  would,  and  it's  where  he  ought 
to  be,  for  our  safety!" 

"You  must  not  blame  the  poor  fellow  for — " 

"I  don't  blame  him  for  anything  but  his  drink- 
ing. If  he  would  only  stop  it,  we  might  live  like 
fighting  cocks,  on  the  fat  of  the  land,  and  I  wouldn't 
have  to  be  playing  hostler  to  the  grand  senior." 

Now,  "senior"  means  an  old  person,  and  Mr. 
Warrington  can't  be  called  old,  so  whom  Mal- 
ston  meant  I  don't  know.  I  would  have  liked 
to  hear  more,  but  I  suddenly  remembered  that 
I  was  doing  a  mean  thing  to  listen,  and  I  knocked 
at  the  door. 


IQO  SANDPEEP 

"There  is  someone  in  the  other  room,"  the 
woman's  voice  said.  "Come  quickly." 

Malston  looked  really  scared  when  he  saw  me; 
he  shut  the  door  behind  him,  instead  of  asking  me 
to  go  to  the  kitchen  and  be  introduced  to  his  sister, 
or  asking  her  to  come  into  the  front  room. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Brenson,  I  —  we  didn't  expect 
you.  I  hope  you  will  excuse  the  torn-up  con- 
dition of—" 

"Please  don't  mind  me,"  I  interrupted.  "I 
know  you  did  not  expect  callers  so  soon,  but 
I  came  to  tell  you  that  Miss  Warrington  wants 
your  sister  to  come  to  the  Lodge  to  sleep,  until 
your  furniture  arrives.  I  see  it  is  here  all  right," 
I  added,  as  if  I  hadn't  seen  the  vehicle  that 
brought  it.  Elder  Snowdon  is  "dead  right" 
as  Mr.  Fairboro  says  —  I  am  a  "  sinful  critter." 

"Yes,  thank  you,  Miss;  and  please  thank  Miss 
Warrington  for  her  kindness.  Of  course, "  — 
he  talked  so  fast,  I  could  see  he  was  flustered, 
and  I  thought  he  was  very  foolish;  folks  can't 
move  and  get  all  fixed  up  the  same  day  —  "we 
are  not  prepared  to  receive  company,  but,  if 
you  will  find  a  seat,  I  will  tell  my  sister  you  are 
here.  She  will  be  glad  to  see  you." 

Though  I  wanted  to  see  Mrs.  Makart  very 
much,  I  said:  "Don't  trouble  her  to  leave  her 
work,  Mr.  Malston.  I  know  just  how  busy  she 
must  be.  I  will  call  again,  when  you  are  all 
settled." 


SANDPEEP  191 

"Please  wait,  Miss,"  he  interrupted;  then  he 
backed  into  the  kitchen  and  shut  the  door  again 
quickly.  In  a  little  while  he  came  back  with  his 
sister.  She  isn't  nearly  as  tall  as  I  am.  She  was 
dressed  in  mourning,  and  the  black  veil  around 
her  head  covered  all  her  hair,  which  is  grayer 
than  Miss  Warrington's,  except  a  little  bit  in 
front.  Dark-blue  glass  specs  quite  hide  her 
eyes,  so  that  I  don't  wonder  the  men  who  brought 
the  furniture  couldn't  say  what  she  looked  like. 
I  should  say,  if  her  brother  had  not  told  me  she 
was  near  his  age,  that  she  is  young-looking  for  an 
old  lady  and  old-looking  for  a  young  lady. 

"I  am  happy  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
Miss  Brenson,"  she  said,  and  she  laid  a  wee  little 
hand  in  mine,  which  would  make  nearly  two  like 
it.  It  was  so  soft,  I  know  it  hasn't  done  much 
housework.  I  gave  it  a  good,  friendly  squeeze, 
and  answered  heartily:  "And  I  am  very  happy 
to  make  yours,  Mrs.  Makart,  and  I  can't  say 
how  glad  I  am  you  have  come  here  to  live.  I 
may  as  well  tell  you  at  once  that  I  am  going  to 
take  lessons  from  you  —  both  music  and  French, 
if  you  will  teach  me." 

"That  is  good  news,  indeed,  Miss,"  Malston 
answered,  instead  of  his  sister,  who  looked  at 
me  as  if  she  did  not  understand.  "Now,  sister 
Lina  will  not  be  so  lonely  here.  She  will,  I  know, 
greatly  enjoy  giving  you  lessons." 

"Not  half  as  much  as  I   shall  enjoy  taking 


192  SANDPEEP 

them,"  I  answered,  heartily  as  before.  "I  shall 
come  to  the  cottage  for  the  French  lessons;  but 
she  will  have  to  give  me  the  music  lessons  at  the 
Lodge." 

"Music  lessons?  But  I-  Mrs.  Makart 
began,  but  her  brother  interrupted: 

"Yes,  Lina  dear;  of  course  you  will  have  to 
go  to  the  Lodge.  You  will  get  over  your  shy- 
ness when  you  have  been  there  a  few  times. 
You  can't  play  the  piano  at  all,  can  you,  Miss?" 

"I  am  only  a  beginner;  but  Mrs.  Makart  will 
find  me  a  diligent  scholar." 

"  But  —  really  —  I  —  don't  —  " 

"My  dear  little  sister,"  Malston  interrupted 
again,  "you  will  have  to  make  up  your  mind  to 
go  to  the  Lodge,  so  don't  say  you  don't  want 
to." 

"You  needn't  be  afraid  of  meeting  anyone," 
I  told  her.  "You  will  not  see  anyone  but  me 
and  Geoffrey  —  " 

"Ah,  yes,  the  boy!  I  adore  —  children,  Miss 
Brenson,"  she  said,  and  she  looked  so  wishful 
that  I  pitied  her. 

"I  know  it,"  I  answered,  and  I  told  her  she 
should  see  Geoffrey  every  time  she  came. 

"But  you  will  bring  him  here  to  see  me  some- 
times, won't  you?" 

"Of  course  I  will!  and  I  hope  he  may  take 
a  fancy  to  you.  He  can  be  very  disagreeable 
if  he  doesn't  like  you." 


SANDPEEP  193 

"I  know  he  will  love  me,"  she  allowed,  and 
I  hope  she  may  not  be  disappointed. 

When  I  got  up  to  go,  she  asked  me  if  I 
wouldn't  bring  Geoffrey  to  see  her  the  next  day; 
and  when  I  said  I  shouldn't  be  able  to  call  again 
until  Monday,  she  pressed  her  hands  against  her 
heart  and  cried  out: 

"Monday!  —  Oh,  I  can't  wait  until  Monday! 
I  can't,  I  can't!—" 

"Lina!"  —  Malston  was  dreadfully  cross  — 
"You  must  remember  that  Miss  Brenson  is  not 
free  to  come  whenever  you  would  like  to  see 
her.  On  Monday  our  house  will  be  in  order; 
then  you  can  begin  the  French  lessons." 

She  said  nothing  more,  but  I  saw  two  big  tears 
roll  from  under  the  blue  specs  and  down  her 
cheeks  —  poor  little  soul ! 

She  and  Malston  stood  on  the  stoop,  looking 
after  me.  I  had  gone  down  the  lane  a  little  ways, 
when  I  had  to  stop  to  loosen  my  skirt  from  a 
blackberry  vine,  and  I  heard  Mrs.  Makart  ex- 
claim, as  if  she  were  surprised,  or  had  hurt  her- 
self. I  looked  back  to  see  what  had  happened. 
She  had  gone  into  the  house,  and  I  thought  I 
saw  the  tramp  come  from  the  kitchen  into  the 
front  room,  just  before  Malston  shut  the  door. 
I  was  going  back  to  see;  then  I  decided  that  it 
was  probably  one  of  the  men  from  the  Lodge 
stables,  who  had  come  to  help  Malston  get 
settled. 


CHAPTER  XV 

ID  ID  not  sleep  well  the  night  after  my  visit  to 
the  cottage.  Once,  when  I  sat  up  to  shake 
my  pillow,  I  heard  the  loose  board  in  the 
floor  outside  of  Geoffrey's  room  creak  loudly, 
but  did  not  think  anything  of  it,  as  Bonny  didn't 
seem  to  mind  it.  So  I  went  to  sleep  again,  but 
not  for  long.  I  woke  again  at  early  dawn,  and 
heard  another  noise  —  not  inside  the  house  this 
time.  It  was  the  sound  an  anchor-chain  makes 
when  the  anchor  is  lowered  into  the  water.  "The 
Kelpie! "  I  said  to  myself,  and  jumped  out  of 
bed.  I  wanted  to  see  the  yacht  which  Dr. 
Parke  had  told  me  was  one  of  the  largest  and 
finest  private  vessels  afloat. 

I  couldn't  see  her  from  my  window,  so  I 
wrapped  a  blanket  around  me,  squaw-fashion, 
and  went  down  to  the  hall-window,  on  the  floor 
below.  Bonny  opened  his  eyes  when  I  passed 
by  him;  but  he  only  winked  sleepily  and  beat 
softly  with  his  tail  on  the  floor,  then  went  to 
sleep  again.  I  am  quite  sure  a  stranger  couldn't 
get  into  the  house  —  Bonny  is  too  good  a  watch- 
dog. 

The  Kelpie  was  anchored  just  inside  the  en- 
trance to  the  Cove,  and  though  the  setting  moon 

194 


SANDPEEP  195 

and  rising  day  made  light  enough  to  see  by,  a 
lantern  was  bobbing  along  the  deck.  She  is 
a  beautiful  boat;  father  would  have  called  her  a 
"dandy  vessil,"  and  I  admired  her  for  several 
minutes.  I  was  half-way  up  the  stairs,  going 
back  to  my  room,  when-  I  heard  a  door  open 
below,  and  stepped  back  to  see  who  else  was  up 
at  that  early  hour. 

It  must  have  been  one  of  the  maids,  for  it 
wasn't  Miss  Warrington.  She  wore  a  long  cape 
with  the  hood  over  her  head.  It  wasn't  a  strange 
woman,  for  Bonny  let  her  pat  his  head  and  only 
wagged  his  tail  without  getting  up.  "She  has 
come  to  see  the  yacht,  too,"  I  told  myself,  and 
went  to  my  room. 

More  than  ever  I  think  rusticators'  ways  are 
queer.  Before  I  went  back  to  bed,  I  looked  out 
of  my  window,  and  saw  that  woman  climb  over 
the  balcony  railing  and  jump  down  to  the 
ground.  I  was  sure  she  must  have  broken  her 
neck  and  was  going  to  run  down-stairs,  when  I 
heard  a  man's  voice  say,  very  low:  "Bravo,  my 
beauty!  You  haven't  forgotten  the  trick  of  it  yet." 

Now,  why  the  maid  should  have  risked  her 
neck,  instead  of  walking  down-stairs,  I  can't 
understand.  Even  if  she  wanted  to  go  walking 
with  her  fellow  —  a  very  strange  thing  to  do  at 
that  hour  —  she  might  have  gone  down  to  him 
as  any  other  human  being  with  two  legs  would, 
instead  of  jumping  from  the  balcony  like  a  cat. 


196  SANDPEEP 

The  folks  from  the  yacht  did  not  come  ashore 
until  breakfast  time.  I  did  not  see  them,  as 
Geoffrey  and  I  had  our  breakfast  in  the  house- 
keeper's room,  and  will  take  all  our  meals  there 
while  the  company  are  in  the  house.  We  started 
for  our  walk,  as  usual,  after  lessons,  and  were 
crossing  the  lawn  toward  the  avenue,  when  Mr. 
Fairboro  came  after  us  from  the  terrace,  where 
several  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  talking  and 
laughing.  I  was  truly  vexed,  for  I  just  knew 
what  Mr.  Warrington  would  think  if  he  saw  him 
with  me  again. 

"You  don't  seem  in  the  least  glad  to  see  me," 
he  said,  and  looked  very  reproachful.  "Even 
if  you  have  not  missed  me,  you  might  say  you 
had.  It  would  be  only  a  polite  fiction." 

"I  should  say  it  with  truth,  Mr.  Fairboro,"  I  re- 
plied, "  if  I  had  not  been  away  all  the  time  you  were. 
But  I  came  back  to  the  Lodge  only  yesterday." 

"You  have  not  been  ill,  I  hope?"  he  asked, 
and  looked  as  if  he  really  would  care  if  I  had. 

"No,  sir;   I  helped  take  care  of  a  sick  friend." 

"Ah,  true!  I  remember  —  the  bass-singer's 
sister.  How  is  she  ?  " 

"She  has  crossed  the  dark  river,"  I  answered, 
very  solemn. 

He  looked  as  if  he  hadn't  quite  understood; 
then,  "Oh!  you  mean  she  died?  Dr.  Parke 
said  she  could  not  recover.  I  dare  say  her 
brother  is  very  much  cut  up?" 


SANDPEEP  197 

"If  you  mean  grieved,  yes,  sir,  he  is;  he  is 
sore-distressed,  indeed." 

"Poor  fellow!   he  has  my  sympathy." 

He  said  nothing  more  for  several  minutes, 
just  walked  along  beside  me  and  switched  at 
the  bushes  by  the  roadside  with  his  pretty  little 
cane. 

"Where  were  you,"  he  asked  suddenly,  "the 
evening  I  went  with  Dr.  Parke  to  the  Cove? 
—  the  evening  Haskell's  sister  was  taken  ill  ?  " 

"I —  I  wasn't  at  home,"  I  answered,  and  my 
face  was  red  as  fire. 

"That  I  discovered,  to  my  sincere  regret, 
when  I  called  at  your  house.  I  went  to  the  Cove 
on  purpose  to  see  you.  I  wanted  to  enjoy  an- 
other conversation  like  the  one  we  had  the 
Sunday  we  walked  home  together  from  meeting. 
Where  is  the  bass- singer  —  still  at  the  Cove  ?  " 

"Zemro  is  stopping  at  our  house,"  I  answered; 
and  I  was  very  dignified,  for  I  didn't  like  the 
way  he  talked  about  poor  Zem.  "His  own 
house  is  too  lonely,  now  that  his  sister  is  gone." 

"It  is  awfully  good  of  you  and  your  aunt  to 
take  such  an  interest  in  the  bereaved  young 
man.  I  dare  say  you  will  be  a  sister  to  him 
now?  —  you  are  so  kind-hearted." 

"Aunt  and  I  will  do  what  we  can  to  lighten 
his  sorrow,  Mr.  Fairboro,"  I  answered,  still  very 
dignified,  for  I  knew  I  should  see  a  smile  on  his 
lips,  if  I  had  cared  to  look  at  him. 


iQ8  SANDPEEP 

"Well,  Zemro  —  odd  name,  isn't  it?  —  is  a 
lucky  beggar  to  have  such  a  sister.  I  envy 
him." 

"I  don't  think  you  have  any  call  to  envy  any- 
body, Mr.  Fairboro, "  I  allowed;  "you  are  rich; 
you  have  lots  of  nice  friends;  you  are  educated; 
you  have  a  beautiful  sister,  and  everything  a 
reasonable  person  ought  to  ask  for." 

"But,  Miss  Brenson,  I  want  so  much  more 
than  I've  got.  I  wonder,  if  I  were  to  lose  my 
beautiful  sister,  would  you  be  as  kind  to  me  as 
you  are  to  Haskell?" 

"No,  sir,  I'm  sure  I  shouldn't,"  I  answered 
promptly.  "You  and  Zemro  are  two  very  dif- 
ferent gentlemen.  You  wouldn't  have  to  go  on 
living  here  in  —  " 

"But  — "  he  interrupted  and  came  closer  to 
my  side  —  "I  should  be  only  too  happy  to  go 
on  living  here,  until  the  end  of  my  days,  if  I  —  " 
I  am  sorry  to  have  to  say  that  I  don't  believe 
half  of  what  Mr.  Fairboro  tells  me;  but  that 
doesn't  hinder  me  from  wanting  to  know  what 
he  would  have  said,  if  Mr.  Warrington  and  a 
very  handsome  elderly  gentleman  hadn't  come 
toward  us  just  then,  around  the  turn  in  the  road. 

"Ah,  here  is  the  young  gentleman  himself! " 
exclaimed  the  stranger,  sticking  in  front  of  his 
right  eye  the  single  eyeglass  which  hung  by  a 
cord  from  the  buttonhole  of  his  vest,  and  look- 
ing through  it  at  me,  instead  of  at  Mr.  Fairboro. 


SANDPEEP  199 

"Warrington  tells  me  you  want  to  sell  that  pacer 
of  yours,  Carrington  ?  " 

"Yes,  Car,"  Mr.  Warrington  said,  before  Mr. 
Fairboro  could  answer,  "here's  your  chance  to 
secure  a  purchaser  for  the  roan.  Go  with  Am- 
berly  to  the  stables,  and  I'll  follow  as  soon  as 
I  have  lodged  a  complaint  against  Geoffrey  with 
Miss  Brenson,  who  will  excuse  you,  I  know." 

I  said  "certainly,"  but  Mr.  Fairboro  looked 
as  if  he  wasn't  going  to  be  excused.  Then,  he 
lifted  his  hat  to  me,  and  walked  away  with  the 
old  gentleman.  I  expected  a  talking  to  from 
Mr.  Warrington,  but  he  only  said : 

"Geoffrey's  manners  are  shocking,  Miss  Bren- 
son. He  ran  against  Mr.  Amberly  just  beyond 
the  turn  there,  and  instead  of  apologizing,  kicked 
—  actually  kicked!  —  the  gentleman's  shins,  and 
struck  at  me  when  I  took  hold  of  him  to  stop  him. 
He  is  rude  as  a  little  savage,  and  I  must  request 
you  to  pay  more  attention  to  his  manners." 

"I  am  very  sorry,  sir,"  I  said,  and  looked  it, 
too.  "I  do  try  my  best  to  teach  him  to  be  polite, 
but  he  is  so  —  he  doesn't  seem  able  to  remember 
what  I  tell  him  —  "I  came  very  near  saying, 
"He  is  so  very  stupid  "  —  and  to  the  boy's  own 
father,  too! 

"No,  he  does  not  seem  able  to  remember 
anything,"  he  agreed,  I  thought,  very  sadly,  "  but 
you  must  have  patience  and  do  what  you  can 
to  improve  him." 


200  SANDPEEP 

He  was  turning  into  the  stable-road,  when  he 
stopped  to  say: 

"My  aunt  asked  me  if  I  would  permit  Geof- 
frey to  go  with  you  to  Malston's  cottage  oc- 
casionally. As  the  cottage  is  so  near,  I  don't 
believe  any  harm  could  come  to  him  if  you  took 
him  with  you  now  and  then." 

Now,  if  that  was  the  tramp  I  saw  at  the  cot- 
tage, and  if  he  is  hanging  around  here  to  coax 
Geoffrey  away  with  him,  then  there  might  be 
danger  in  my  taking  the  boy  to  see  Mrs.  Makart. 
But  all  men  with  bushy  beards  look  alike  at 
a  distance;  and  several  of  the  men  that  work 
about  the  Lodge  grounds  have  just  such  beards; 
so  it  may  have  been  one  of  them  I  saw. 

"If  he  goes  with  me  to  the  cottage,  sir,"  I 
said  to  Mr.  Warrington,  "I  promise  you  I  will 
keep  a  close  watch  on  him;  and  with  Bonny 
to  help,  I  know  I  can  hinder  the  tramp,  if  he 
is-  still  around  here,  from  running  away  with 
him." 

"I  think  I  can  trust  you!"  he  said,  smiling; 
then  he  lifted  his  hat,  and  walked  away. 

If  he  would  be  as  kind  and  pleasant  always, 
I  could  get  up  courage  enough  some  day  to  tell 
him  what  I  found  in  the  old  government  book! 

When  I  caught  up  with  Geoffrey,  I  gave  him 
a  talking  to,  for  kicking  Mr.  Amberly;  but  he 
didn't  mind,  and  kept  mumbling  all  the  time  I 
was  scolding  him: 


SANDPEEP  201 

"I  will  kick  hims  —  I  will  kick  hims  —  wheiu 
I  not  like  hims." 

How  is  a  body  to  make  such  a  stubborn  boy 
learn  manners?  We  were  near  the  gates,  when 
a  clattering  of  horses'  hoofs  on  the  hard  road 
made  us  hurry  toward  the  stone  seat  just  inside 
the  gateway.  Two  horses  were  galloping,  hard 
as  they  could  come,  down  the  avenue.  Malston 
was  riding  one  of  them,  and  had  hold  of  the 
other  one's  halter.  It  was  the  horse  Mrs.  War- 
rington  always  rides,  and  there  was  a  lady's 
saddle  on  it. 

When  they  were  just  in  front  of  the  stone  seat, 
Geoffrey's  hat  blew  off.  He  ran  after  it,  right 
under  the  horses'  feet,  and  would  have  been 
trampled  to  death,  if  Malston  had  not  quickly 
swung  himself  from  the  saddle,  and,  holding  to 
it  with  one  hand,  with  the  other  caught  up  the 
boy.  Before  I  could  realize  what  had  hap- 
pened, he  was  back  in  his  saddle  again,  with 
Geoffrey,  who  wasn't  the  least  mite  scared,  sit- 
ting in  front  of  him. 

My  soul  and  body,  but  wasn't  I  scared!  I 
don't  believe  anybody  ever  did  such  a  wonder- 
ful thing  before!  and  I  said  so  too,  to  Malston, 
when  he  came  riding  back  to  the  seat. 

"It  wasn't  much  to  do,  Miss,"  he  answered, 
very  modestly.  "It  required  only  quick  action 
and  a  strong  arm.  Please  don't  speak  of  it  to 
anyone.  If  Mr.  Warrington  should  hear  it,  he 


202  SANDPEEP 

would  think  me  careless  for  riding  fast  inside 
the  gates,  and  discharge  me." 

I  promised  I  would  not  tell  a  soul.  Mr.  War- 
rington  might  send  him  away  and  that  would  be 
a  great  pity,  after  he  has  spent  so  much  money 
on  the  old  cottage.  Besides,  it  would  put  a  stop 
to  my  taking  lessons  from  Mrs.  Makart.  I 
asked  him  where  he  was  taking  Mrs.  Warring- 
ton's  beautiful  horse. 

"I  am  only  exercising  him,  Miss.  He  gets 
too  frisky  if  he  is  not  ridden  every  day." 

"I  wish  I  could  ride  as  well  as  Mrs.  Warring- 
ton,"  I  said  wishfully. 

"You  could  easily  learn,  Miss.  Wouldn't  you 
like  to  take  a  lesson  in  the  lane  now?  Nobody 
would  see  you." 

"If  I  thought  I  could  stick  on  the  saddle,  I 
would  try." 

He  gave  the  reins  of  the  horse  he  was  on  to  Geof- 
frey, and  swung  to  the  ground.  He  is  very  grace- 
ful and  rides  even  better  than  Mr.  Warrington. 

"Is  it  safe  to  leave  the  boy  on  that  horse?  "  I 
asked. 

"Perfectly  safe,  Miss.  The  little  master  has 
learned  to  ride,  you  know." 

"Yes,  on  his  pony;  but  that  horse  is  so  much 
higher,  he  might  fall  off." 

"He  will  not  fall  off,"  Malston  said,  and  he 
seemed  so  sure  of  it,  that  I  moved  toward  the 
other  horse. 


SANDPEEP  203 

I  managed,  somehow,  with  him  to  boost  me, 
to  scramble  to  the  saddle.  Then  he  showed  me 
how  to  hold  the  reins,  and  told  me  that  all  I 
needed  to  do  was  to  keep  a  firm  seat. 

Keep  a  firm  seat,  indeed!  I  found  that  I 
couldn't  do  that  if  the  horse  went  faster  than  a 
slow  walk.  I  bobbed  up  and  down  and  not 
always  down  into  the  place  I  had  bobbed  up 
from.  So  I  made  him  go  very  slowly.  That  little 
rascal,  Geoffrey,  laughed  at  me  and  even  Mal- 
ston  smiled;  but  he  kept  saying,  as  he  walked 
his  horse  beside  mine:  "You  do  admirably, 
Miss  —  admirably.  You  would  soon  learn.  All 
you  need  is  practice." 

"I  don't  believe  I  should  ever  learn  to  ride  as 
well  as  Mrs.  Warrington,"  I  said,  afraid  to  take 
my  eyes  off  the  road,  or  that  part  of  it  I  could 
see  between  the  ears  of  my  horse. 

"Mrs.  Warrington  is  a  splendid  horsewoman," 
he  allowed,  "and  a  very  beautiful  lady,  too." 

I  didn't  answer:  I  was  too  busy  trying  to  keep 
from  sliding  backward. 

"If  what  they  say  at  the  stables  is  true,"  Mal- 
ston  said  again,  "the  lady  will  soon  be  the  little 
master's  mamma." 

That's  what  poor  Louine  suspicioned.  I  was 
sorry  to  hear  Malston  say  it,  too,  for  I  know  Mrs. 
Warrington  does  not  love  Geoffrey,  and  I  don't 
like  to  think  of  her  taking  the  pretty  finger-ring 
lady's  place. 


204  SANDPEEP 

"The  servants,"  Malston  went  on,  "say  that 
Mr.  Warrington  was  very  much  in  love  with  the 
lady  before  she  married  his  cousin;  that  she 
jilted  him,  and  that  that  is  the  reason  he  made 
such  a  hasty  marriage." 

"Did  he  marry  hastily?"  I  asked,  just  as  if 
I  didn't  know  that  Mr.  Warrington  had  had 
plenty  of  time  to  think,  before  he  got  married. 

"Yes,  Miss  —  married  in  great  haste,  they 
say,  because  he  wanted  the  lady  who  jilted  him 
to  believe  he  didn't  love  her.  But  he  did  and 
does  yet,  as  one  may  easily  see." 

I  was  a  good  deal  more  interested  in  my  rid- 
ing lesson  than  in  what  the  servants  said  about 
Mr.  Warrington  and  the  laughing  widow- 
woman,  so  I  made  no  answer.  After  a  while, 
Malston  said  again: 

"You  are  getting  along  so  finely,  Miss,  I  will 
give  the  little  master,  who  loves  to  go  fast,  a  ride ; 
and,  if  you  have  no  objections,  take  him  as  far 
as  the  cottage." 

"All  right,"  I  answered,  quite  set  up  by  his 
praise,  "but  take  good  care  of  him." 

He  promised,  and  started  off  on  a  gallop.  I 
would  have  liked  to  follow  at  the  same  pace,  but 
I  knew  I  should  bounce  off  the  saddle,  if  I  dared 
to  go  faster  than  the  slow  walk. 

When  I  rode  up  to  the  cottage,  Malston's  horse 
was  standing  in  the  door-yard,  tied  to  a  bush,  but 
he  was  nowhere  in  sight.  He  came  out  of  the 


SANDPEEP  205 

house  quickly,  when  I  said  "Whoa,"  to  my  horse; 
and  helped  me  down  from  the  saddle.  I  thanked 
him  and  asked  for  Geoffrey. 

"He  is  with  sister  Lina,  Miss;  she  has  given 
him  some  milk  and  cake  —  " 

"Miss  Warrington  does  not  like  him  to  eat 
sweet  cake,"  I  interrupted. 

I  was  hurrying  toward  the  house,  when  Mal- 
ston,  somehow,  got  in  front  of  me;  I  had  to 
stop,  and  he  said: 

"This  is  very  plain  cake,  Miss,  and  will  not 
hurt  him;  my  sister  used  to  make  it  for  her  little 
boy." 

He  kept  looking  toward  the  house  and  seemed 
vexed.  I  was  just  going  to  say  that  I  would 
have  to  take  Geoffrey  back  to  the  Lodge,  when 
Mrs.  Makart  came  out  of  the  cottage  with  him.' 
I  could  see  that  she  had  been  crying,  and  her 
voice  was  still  trembling  when  she  asked  me  to 
excuse  her  for  keeping  me  waiting. 

I  told  her  I  did  not  mind  it,  though  I  had 
been  on  pins  and  needles  about  Geoffrey. 

"This  is  such  a  darling  little  boy,"  she  said 
then,  and  drew  him  closer  to  her  side.  He  cer- 
tainly has  taken  a  fancy  to  her,  for  he  didn't 
act  as  if  he  wanted  to  kick  her,  as  he  did  Mr. 
Amberly. 

"Geoffrey  can  be  very  nice  when  he  wants 
to,"  I  answered.  "  I  hope  he  thanked  you  for 
the  cake  and  milk." 


206  SANDPEEP 

"The  cake  and  milk?"  she  said  after  me,  and 
looked  as  if  she  hadn't  understood.  Then,  after 
a  glance  at  her  brother,  she  added  quickly:  "Oh, 
yes!  He  thanked  me,  and  very  nicely,  too." 

I  took  hold  of  his  hand  but  he  broke  away 
from  me,  and  ran  toward  the  house,  saying: 

"I  want  to  goo-bye  hims." 

"What  does  the  silly  little  chap  mean?"  Mal- 
ston  exclaimed,  and  ran  after  him.  He  caught 
him  at  the  door,  swung  him  to  his  shoulder, 
and  trotted  like  a  horse  around  the  door-yard, 
which  prevented  a  lot  of  kicking  and  screaming. 

"Is  there  a  man  in  the  house?"  I  asked  Mrs. 
Makart. 

"Not  in  the  house,  Miss,"  her  brother  an- 
swered before  she  could  speak.  "The  little 
master  must  mean  the  man  I  have  hired  to  cut 
wood.  An  honest  fellow  and  excellent  workman." 

"Has  he  got  a  bushy  beard?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  Miss;  have  you  seen  him?" 

"Yes;  when  I  was  leaving  here  yesterday." 

"He  came  to  work  yesterday." 

That  settled  the  tramp  question.  I  can  be 
sure  now  that  it  was  not  he  I  saw  at  the  cottage. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

1WAS  in  my  room  combing  my  hair,  after  a 
romp  with  Geoffrey  and  Bonny,  when  Miss 
Helmsley  knocked.  I  was  more  than  sur- 
prised to  see  her,  for  she  hardly  ever  notices  me. 

"I  had  quite  a  hunt  for  you,  Miss  Brenson," 
she  said,  coming  into  the  room.  "What  perfectly 
lovely  hair  you've  got!  Looks  more  like  spun- 
glass  than  hair,  though." 

"I  never  saw  spun-glass,  and  shouldn't  have 
thought  glass  could  be  spun.  Won't  you  take  a 
chair?"  I  answered. 

"Yes,  thanks."  She  sat  down  and  went  on  to 
say:  "You  need  only  to  look  at  that  corn-colored 
cascade  falling  over  your  shoulders,  and  you'll 
know  what  spun-glass  is  like.  Go  on,  and  do 
up  your  mane,  and  I'll  tell  you  what  I  came 
for." 

I  went  on  "doing  up  my  mane,"  and  she  con- 
tinued : 

"I  want  you  to  come  out  rowing  with  me. 
All  the  girls  I  know  have  gone  daft  over  athletics, 
and  if  I  don't  want  to  be  a  lonesome  freak,  I've 
got  to  take  up  something  of  the  sort,  too.  I  don't 
fancy  any  of  those  violent  exercises  that  make 
you  hot,  and  take  the  crimp  out  of  your  bangs; 

207 


208  SANDPEEP 

so,  as  one  can  wear  a  fetching  gown  in  a  boat,  I 
have  decided  to  take  up  rowing  as  my  fad.  The 
only  drawback  about  water-exercises  for  me  is 
that  I  get  so  beastly  seasick,  as  my  brother  would 
say,  if  the  boat  is  the  least  bit  tippy.  But  I  am 
going  to  try.  Now,  what  I  want  you  to  do  is, 
come  out  with  me  in  the  boat  and  row  me  around 
in  the  cove  for  a  while,  and  if  I  don't  get  sick, 
then  you  shall  teach  me  to  row.  You  will,  won't 
you?" 

I  did  not  understand  more  than  half  she  said, 
but  I  understood  enough  to  answer  that  I  should 
be  pleased  to  give  her  rowing  lessons,  if  Miss 
Warrington  would  let  me  take  the  time. 

"I  made  sure  of  her  permission  before  I  came. 
She  recommended  you  and  said  you  were  a  fine 
sailoress,  or  skipperess,  whichever  is  correct,  and 
that  you  know  as  well  as  a  man  how  to  manage 
a  boat.  I  would  rather  have  you  teach  me,  any- 
way, for  a  man  would  laugh  if  I  got  seasick. 
Car  —  Mr.  Fairboro  —  offered  to  give  me  oar- 
lessons  —  he  called  it  —  but  I  know  too  well  what 
he  would  do  if  he  got  me  into  a  boat.  He'd 
take  me  out  where  the  water  was  too  deep  to  see 
bottom,  and  I  couldn't  stand  that.  I  want  to 
row  where  my  head  would  be  above  the  water, 
if  the  boat  should  happen  to  tip  over,  don't  you 
see?" 

When  I  got  done  laughing,   she  went  on: 

"Everybody  has  gone  off  on  the  Kelpie,   so 


SANDPEEP  209 

come  out  with  me  now,  and  no  one  will  be 
here  to  see,  if  my  tummy  should  get  the  better 
of  me." 

"I  should  like  to  oblige  you,  Miss  Helmsley," 
I  answered,  "but  I  don't  think  I  can  go  with 
you  to-day ;  I  have  to  take  care  of  Geoffrey  — 

"Take  him  with  you,"  she  interrupted. 

"I  couldn't  do  that  without  his  father's  per- 
mission." 

She  looked  so  disappointed,  I  allowed,  "Per- 
haps Janet  will  look  after  him  an  hour  or  so; 
I'll  ask  her." 

"Thanks  awfully!  Do  you  know  that  you 
have  a  small  fortune  on  your  head,  Miss  Bren- 
son?"  she  asked,  watching  me  stick  the  hair-pins 
into  the  knot  at  the  back  of  my  neck. 

"A  fortune?  "  I  repeated,  and  turned  to  look 
at  her,  puzzled. 

"Yes,  in  your  lovely  hair." 

"Do  you  mean  that  I  could  sell  it?  " 

"Certainly.  Almost  any  dealer  in  hair  would 
pay  a  good  price  for  it." 

"You  are  making  fun  of  me,  Miss  Helmsley," 
I  said. 

"Indeed  I'm  not!  But  you  wouldn't  sell  your 
hair,  would  you?" 

"I  might,  if  I  needed  the  money.  There  was 
a  time  when  I  would  have  been  glad  to  sell  it. 
It's  a  crop  that  will  grow  again  without  sowing, 
you  know." 


210  SANDPEEP 

"Yes,  but  you  would  look  a  guy  while  it  was 
growing." 

"Unless  a  'guy'  is  uglier  than  a  sculpin,  I 
shouldn't  mind!"  I  answered,  then  asked  how 
much  she  thought  I  could  get  for  my  hair. 

"I  can't  say  just  how  much  —  two  or  three 
hundred  dollars,  perhaps." 

"Two  or  three  hundred  dollars?  My  soul 
and  body,  Miss  Helmsley!  who  would  pay  all 
that  money  for  just  hair? " 

"Actresses,  who  need  yellow  wigs  for  certain 
plays;  society  women  who  have  lost  their  own 
tresses,  though  I  know  of  but  one  who  can  boast 
of  that  rare  shade  of  yellow.  I  think  she  would 
gladly  give  any  sum  you  might  name  if  you 
could  transfer  your  hair,  with  the  scalp,  to  her 
own  head.  She  has  lost  nearly  all  of  her  hair 
through  illness,  and  has  great  difficulty  getting 
switches  and  fringes  of  natural  hair  to  match 
the  little  she  still  has  on  her  head.  But  time  is 
passing ;  please  see  Janet  —  the  sailing  party 
will  be  back  before  we  get  our  row,  if  we  don't 
start  immediately." 

Janet  had  nothing  else  to  do  and  was  very 
willing  to  take  charge  of  Geoffrey.  So  Miss 
Helmsley  and  I  were  soon  out  on  the  water,  in 
the  pretty  little  row-boat. 

Miss  Helmsley  is  dreadfully  scared  of  the 
water.  She  is  always  imagining  the  boat  is 
going  to  "tip  over,"  and  I  had  all  I  could  do 


SANDPEEP  211 

to  keep  a  straight  face  when  she  kept  telling  me 
not  to  row  out  where  we  couldn't  see  the  bottom 
of  the  Cove. 

It  is  very  silly,  but  I  guess  I  should  be  just  as 
scared  if  I  were  in  a  balloon,  though  to  be  tipped 
out  of  a  boat  wouldn't  be  half  as  bad  as  to  fall 
from  a  balloon.  Ground  is  a  lot  harder  than 
water;  and  I'd  rather  be  drowned  whole,  than 
smashed  to  pieces. 

"What  a  picturesque  place  Surgecliffe  Lodge 
is,"  Miss  Helmsley  allowed,  when  we  were  row- 
ing out  where  we  could  see  the  house;  "and 
what  a  pity  it  has  no  mistress." 

"There  is  Miss  Warrington,  the  owner's  aunt," 
I  said. 

"Yes;  but  he  ought  to  have  a  wife  —  he 
ought  to  be  free  to  marry  again." 

"Free  to  marry  again?  What  do  you  mean 
by  'free'?" 

"Why,  as  Mr.  Warrington  is  neither  a  Latter- 
day  Saint  nor  a  divorced  sinner,  he  could  not 
marry  again  without  committing  bigamy.  Don't 
you  see?" 

I  didn't  "see"  what  she  meant  by  a  "Latter- 
day  Saint";  but  knew  what  a  "divorced  sinner" 
was,  so  I  said: 

"I  thought  Mr.  Warrington  was  a  widower." 

"He  isn't,  unless  the  news  of  his  wife's  sud- 
den demise  arrived  within  the  last  twenty-four 
hours.  It's  not  likely,  though;  horrid  creatures 


212  SANDPEEP 

like  that  woman  never  die  when  you  want 
them  to." 

"Where  is  she  ?  and  why  do  you  call  her  a  '  hor- 
rid creature'?"  I  asked,  more  and  more  puzzled. 

"There!  —  please  do  pay  more  attention  to 
what  you're  doing,  Miss  Brenson.  Go  nearer 
to  the  shore,  and  I'll  answer  all  the  questions 
you  choose  to  ask,  if  I  can!  You  are  an  ani- 
mated interrogation  point  and  no  mistake." 

When  we  were  well  under  the  lee  of  the  cliff, 
where  the  water  wasn't  deep  enough  to  come  up 
to  our  chins,  if  we  "tipped  over,"  she  said  again: 

"Now,  keep  rowing  here,  and  don't  go  out  a 
step  farther.  What  do  you  want  me  to  tell  you 
about  that  disreputable  creature,  to  whom  one 
of  the  nicest  men  I  know  is  bound  until  death, 
or  the  divorce  courts,  do  them  part?" 

"Everything  you  know  about  her,  please.  I 
thought  she  was  dead." 

"So  did  Mr.  Warrington,  for  a  blissful  period! 
But  it  was  a  false  report,  sent  out  by  the  woman 
herself,  for  what  reason  only  she  can  tell.  Some 
say  she  did  it  because  she  was  afraid  Mr.  War- 
rington would  take  their  child  away  from  her. 
I  say,  or  rather,  my  brother  says,  that  it  was  out 
of  pure  cussedness,  to  spite  the  man  whose  life 
she  had  ruined.  She  intended  to  let  him  be- 
lieve her  dead,  until  after  he  had  married  again, 
which  he  would  have,  of  course;  then  she  would 
have  turned  up  and  given  him  no  end  of  trouble, 


SANDPEEP  213 

and  all  because  he  had  married  her  purely  from 
a  sense  of  honor  - 

"From  a  sense  of  honor?"  I  interrupted. 

"Yes!  There!  —  you  are  getting  too  far  away 
from  the  shore,  again."  When  I  had  rowed 
back  where  she  could  see  bottom,  she  went  on: 

"Mr.  Warrington  was  at  college  when  he 
married  the  low-born  creature,  because  he  con- 
sidered it  his  duty,  as  an  honorable  gentleman. 
Some  of  his  friends  say  that  he  never  would 
have  disgraced  himself  so,  if  Juliet  —  Mrs.  War- 
rington—  hadn't  jilted  him  for  his  cousin  Geof- 
frey. If  that  was  really  the  reason  for  his  hasty 
marriage,  I'll  lay  you  the  fizz  —  as  my  brother 
would  say  —  he  has  sorely  repented  it  ever 
since  —  " 

"What  does  'lay  you  the  fizz,'  mean?"  I 
asked. 

"That's  slang  for  '  bet  you  the  drinks'  —  you 
needn't  look  for  it  in  the  Encyclopaedia,"  she 
added,  smiling. 

My  face  grew  hot  as  fire.  What  I  suspected, 
when  she  called  me  an  "animated  interrogation 
point"  was  true:  Mr.  Fairboro  has  been  talking 
about  me  to  her.  Well,  if  I  did  not  ask  ques- 
tions, I  should  be  even  more  ignorant  than  I  am! 

"Isn't  there  something  else  you  want  to 
know?"  she  asked. 

"I  should  like  you  to  tell  me  what  you  mean 
by  'low-born,'"  I  answered. 


214  SANDPEEP 

"Why  —  er  —  the  person  who  can't  claim  a 
grandfather  is  considered  low-born,  don't  you 
know  i 

"But,  Miss  Helmsley!  everybody  must  have 
had  a  grandfather;  one  must  have  had  one  to 
be  here  one's  self." 

"Oh,  you  are  too  deliciously  innocent!"  she 
exclaimed,  and  laughed.  "Of  course,  every- 
body had  a  grandfather,  but  the  grandchildren 
are  nobodies,  unless  the  grandfather  was  of 
some  account,  or  a  gentleman  born.  There 
are  some  persons  in  society,  though,  whose 
grandfathers  aren't  worth  mentioning;  but  they 
are  so  richly  gilded,  one  doesn't  inquire  too 
closely  into  what  their  forebears  were  or  did." 

"Then  Mr.  Warrington's  wife  wasn't  'richly 
gilded,'  "  I  allowed. 

"No  "  —  laughing  again  —  "though  she  made 
a  deal  of  money.  She  was  a  celebrated  dan- 
sooze."  I  don't  know  if  that  is  the  way  to  spell 
the  word,  for  I  can't  find  it  in  the  dictionary. 

"What  is  a  dansooze,  please ?  "   I  asked. 

"That's  French  for  a  woman  dancer." 

"A  dancer?  I  never  knew  that  one  could 
make  a  deal  of  money  by  dancing."  I  thought 
she  was  making  fun  of  me. 

"You  can  if  you  are  able  to  glide  about  on  the 
ends  of  your  toes,  and  fling  your  heels  high  as 
your  head." 

"Is  that  the  way  they  dance  in  the  city?"  I 


SANDPEEP  215 

exclaimed.  "If  it  is,  I  don't  wonder  Elder 
Snowdon  says  dancing  is  sinful." 

"That  is  the  sort  of  dancing  that  pays,"  Miss 
Helmsley  allowed,  after  she  had  laughed  heartily, 
"and  Mademoiselle  Angela  Marcinet  made  no 
end  of  money.  She  was  the  rage  among  the  col- 
lege students,  who  showered  flowers  and  costly 
gifts  on  her  at  every  appearance,  and  fought 
for  the  right  to  entertain  her.  Are  you  inter- 
ested enough  to  hear  all  that  I  know  about  her?  " 

Interested?  I  just  guess  I  was,  and  I  told 
her  so.  At  last,  after  so  many  years,  I  was  to 
learn  what  I  wanted  so  much  to  know  about  the 
finger-ring  lady. 

"Well,  as  I  said,  the  students  lost  their  heads 
over  the  beautiful  dancer.  One  day  a  chum  of 
Mr.  Warrington's  invited  him  to  a  breakfast 
on  board  his  yacht,  at  which  the  dancer  was  the 
guest  of  honor.  There  were  four  students  be- 
sides Mr.  Warrington,  and  as  all  had  been  at  a 
late  supper  the  night  before,  they  were  not  as 
fit  as  they  might  have  been  — 

"Do  you  mean  that  they  were  sick?" 

"Just  'sick'  enough  not  to  know  what  they 
were  doing!  There  was  an  elaborate  colla- 
tion —  " 

"What  is  a  collation,  please ?"  I  interrupted, 
again. 

"Eatables  and  drinkables,  especially  drink- 
ables,  and  they  had  a  good  time.  The  owner 


216  SANDPEEP 

of  the  yacht  ordered  the  skipper  to  sail  out  to 
sea  a  few  miles,  but  the  man  misunderstood  the 
order,  and  sailed  up  the  coast  miles  and  miles, 
too  far  to  get  back  for  the  dancer's  evening  per- 
formance. She  raved,  had  hysterics  and  wanted 
to  throw  herself  overboard.  But  to  get  back  in 
time  was  out  of  the  question.  Mr.  Warrington, 
so  the  other  men  said  afterward,  prevented  her 
from  jumping  into  the  sea,  by  promising  to 
take  upon  himself  the  consequences  of  her  man- 
ager's displeasure.  That  calmed  the  creature's 
hysterics  and  the  yacht  was  allowed  to  sail  on 
up  the  coast.  I  don't  know  how  far  they  sailed, 
or  how  long  the  party  was  on  board  the  yacht  — 
I  don't  think  they  could  have  told  themselves, 
afterward !  —  but  Mr.  Warrington  and  the  dancer 
went  ashore,  somewhere,  and  were  married  —  just 
where,  nobody  but  they  two  and  the  preacher 
who  performed  the  ceremony  knows." 

"I  know,"  I  said  to  myself,  and  I  wondered 
what  she  would  say  if  I  were  to  tell  her. 

"The  newspapers  were  full  of  the  affair,"  she 
went  on.  " There  were  whole  columns  of  it: 
'The  only  son  of  General  Warrington  ran  away 
from  college  and  married  the  fascinating  dancer, 
Mademoiselle  Marcinet,  and  sailed  with  her  to 
Europe '  —  you  saw  that  in  every  newspaper ! 
The  scandal  killed  General  Warrington.  The 
proud  old  gentleman  couldn't  stand  his  adored 
son's  disgrace,  though  Dr.  Parke  vows  it  was 


SANDPEEP  217 

really  a  fall  from  his  horse  that  caused  the 
General's  death.  Nobody  heard  anything  more 
about  the  runaway  pair  for  several  years. 
Then  Mr.  Warrington  returned  —  alone.  It  was 
said  that  he  and  his  wife  had  agreed  to  live 
apart;  at  least,  there  was  no  divorce.  About 
a  year  after  his  return,  there  was  a  notice  in 
the  newspapers  of  the  death,  in  France,  of  his 
wife  and  little  son,  and  all  his  friends  were  glad 
for  him  —  " 

"But  if  she  died—" 

"She  didn't  die;  it  was  a  false  report.  A 
little  nearer  to  the  shore,  please!  About  six 
months  ago,  Mr.  Warrington  joined  an  expedi- 
tion, which  was  going  to  Africa  to  shoot  Zoo 
beasts  - 

"Zoo  beasts?  What  kind  of  beasts  are  they, 
please?"  I  interrupted. 

"Oh,  dear!  —  the  beasts  you  see  in  the  Zoo, 
of  course  — " 

"But  I  don't  know  what  a  'Zoo'  is,  Miss 
Helmsley  —  I  am  dreadfully  ignorant." 

"You  won't  stay  so,  if  you  keep  on  asking 
questions  at  the  rate  of  a  dozen  a  minute!"  she 
allowed,  laughing;  then  she  explained:  "Zoo  is 
short  for  the  Zoological  garden  in  town,  where 
the  elephants  and  lions  and  other  poor  beasts 
are  kept  on  exhibition.  Well,  the  hunting  party 
was  in  Paris,  getting  its  outfit  ready,  when  the 
French  member  invited  the  American  and  Eng- 


218  SANDPEEP 

lish  members  to  spend  the  week  of  waiting  at 
his  shatto  —  that  means  a  house  in  the  country," 
she  explained  in  a  hurry,  seeing  that  I  was  about 
to  ask  her  what  it  was.  "The  invitation  was  ac- 
cepted, and  one  day  Mr.  Warrington  strolled  into 
the  little  village  near  the  shatto,  and  seeing  a  cir- 
cus tent,  he  went  in  and  recognized  in  one  of  the 
equestriennes  — : 

"What  are  they,  please?" 

"A  woman  who  rides  a  horse  —  stupid!" 

"I  know  I'm  stupid,"  I  answered,  sorrow- 
fully. "I  might  have  guessed  it  had  something 
to  do  with  a  horse.  Please  go  on  — '  He  recog- 
nized in  the  woman  rider'  —  " 

"His  dancer,  who  was  very  much  alive,  and 
—  I  may  add  without  being  accused  of  vulgar- 
ity —  'kicking,'  for  she  was  kicking  up  her  heels 
on  the  horse  which  was  galloping  around  the 
ring.  He  waited  until  the  performance  was 
over,  then  sought  an  interview  with  the  rider  and 
her  brothers,  who  were  tumblers  in  the  same 
show — " 

"I  don't  know  what  'tumblers'  are,  Miss 
Helmsley;  we  Cove  folks  call  the  glasses  we 
drink  out  of  'tumblers.'  I  wouldn't  trouble 
you  if  I  had  brought  a  pencil  and  piece  of  paper 
to  write  down  the  words  I  don't  understand.  I 
just  can't  bear  not  to  know  what  they  mean!  " 

"Your  thirst  for  information  is  commendable," 
Miss  Helmsley  answered,  "and  it  is  no  trouble  to 


SANDPEEP  219 

answer  your  questions,  only  amusing.    Tumblers 
are    acrobats  —  people    who    turn    somersaults, 
stand  on  their  heads,   and  do  other  wonderful 
things.      I   don't   know   what  happened  during 
the  interview   between  Mr.   Warrington  and  his 
wife,   but   the   result  was  that  he  gave  up  the 
hunting  trip  and  came  back  to  America,  bring- 
ing Geoffrey  with  him." 
"And  where  is  the  dancing-woman  now?" 
"In  France,  I  believe." 
I  thought  for  a  minute,  then  said: 
"I    can't    understand    why    Mr.    Warrington 
married  her  if  he  didn't  love  her." 

"You  silly!  Men  don't  always  marry  the 
women  they  love,  or  love  the  women  they 
marry!  Mr.  Warrington,  you  may  be  sure, 
would  not  have  married  the  'dancing  woman' 
if  he  had  not  promised  to  do  so  when  he  was 
—  er  — •  when  he  had  too  much  fizz  on  the  brain ! 
He  is  the  sort  of  honorable  gentleman  that  keeps 
a  promise,  no  matter  what  his  condition  when 
it  was  made!" 

I  guess  it  was  the  fizz  on  Mr.  Warrington's 
brain  that  made  him  act  so  strangely  that  stormy 
night;  he  was  quite  different  the  next  morning, 
when  he  drew  the  "mermaid"  picture. 

After  a  little,  I  said,  more  to  myself  than  to 
Miss  Helmsley : 

"The  poor  lady  must  miss  her  little  boy." 
"'Poor  lady'!  "  she  sniffed.     "I  dare  say  she 


220  SANDPEEP 

was  glad  enough  to  get  rid  of  the  little  stupid  — 
who  isn't  the  least  bit  like  a  Warrington  —  and 
she  received  a  snug  sum  of  money  in  exchange 
for  him." 

"But  didn't  you  say  she  sent  out  the  false 
report  of  her  death  because  she  was  afraid  Mr. 
Warrington  might  take  the  boy  away  from  her?  " 

"That  is  what  some  people  said;  but  her  giving 
up  the  boy  proves  that  she  is  not  so  fond  of  him 
after  all." 

Neither  of  us  spoke  again  for  several  minutes. 
I  was  busy  thinking  over  what  I  had  heard;  but 
Miss  Helmsley  must  have  forgotten  all  about 
it,  for  she  asked  me  suddenly,  as  if  it  had  been 
in  her  mind  for  ever  so  long: 

"How  came  you  to  have  such  a  very  odd 
name?  I  never  heard  anyone  called  Keren 
Happuch  before." 

"When  I  was  a  tiny  baby,  father  was  so  af- 
flicted with  boils,  just  as  Job  was,  when  the 
Lord  was  trying  his  patience,  that  he  thought 
the  name  of  that  pious  man's  youngest  daughter 
would  be  a  good  one  for  me." 

After  she  got  done  laughing  —  she  laughs  al- 
most as  much  as  Mrs.  Warrington  —  I  said  I 
thought  it  was  time  to  go  ashore. 

"I  dare  say  it  is,"  she  agreed,  "though  I  am 
not  a  bit  tired"  -I  guess  she  wasn't;  she 
hadn't  done  the  rowing!  —  "I  had  no  idea  I 
could  be  so  comfortable  in  a  boat.  You  must 


SANDPEEP  221 

come  out  with  me  very  soon  again;  and  maybe 
I'll  try  to  row,  too." 

"I  should  be  pleased  to  come  out  with  you  as 
often  as  you  would  want  me,  if  my  time  were 
my  own,"  I  told  her;  "but  I  can't  ask  Janet 
to  —  " 

"Oh,  I'll  fix  Janet,"  she  interrupted;  "just 
you  leave  me  to  manage  that! " 

By  "fix,"  she  means  "pay";  she  fixed  me,  too, 
by  pressing  a  dollar  bill  into  my  hand  when  we 
got  ashore.  I  didn't  want  to  take  it,  but  she  said 
if  I  would  not  accept  it,  she  could  not  ask  me  to 
row  her  again.  So  I  am  a  whole  dollar  richer, 
and  know  all  about  the  finger-ring  lady,  too! 

Well,  I  have  begun  my  French  lessons,  and 
I  must  say  they  are  not  just  what  I  expected. 
Mrs.  Makart  does  not  use  a  grammar  at  all  and 
says  she  doesn't  remember  ever  having  studied 
it  when  she  went  to  school.  But  as  I  want  most 
to  know  how  to  pronounce  the  words  and  what 
letters  not  to  pronounce,  I  guess  I  shall  be  able 
to  manage  the  grammar  part  by  myself. 

While  I  was  taking  my  lesson,  Geoffrey  had 
a  good  time  playing  with  the  wood-chopper, 
at  the  back  of  the  house.  He  has  taken  such  a 
fancy  to  the  man,  that  he  did  not  want  to  go  back 
to  the  Lodge  with  me.  He  kicked  and  screamed 
at  the  top.  of  his  voice,  when  I  took  hold  of  his 
hand: 

"No  —  no  —  I  will  not  go  to  the  big  house.    I 


222  SANDPEEP 

will  stay  here  —  I  will  play  with  hims  —  he  trow 
me  up  so  high"  -  stretching  his  arms  above  his 
head  —  "like  my  booful  papa  over  the  water,  not 
the  big  papa  in  the  big  house." 

Mrs.  Makart  laughed,  caught  him  in  her  arms, 
and  hugged  him. 

"  Please  excuse  me,  Miss  Brenson,"  she  said 
when  she  let  him  go.  "I  cannot  help  treating 
the  dear  little  motherless  boy  as  if  he  were 
my  own,  and  not  the  son  of  my  brother's  rich 
employer." 

"I  guess  Mr.  Warrington  would  not  object," 
I  allowed.  "The  only  thing  you  must  not  do 
is  to  talk  French;  he  will  not  learn  English 
if  people  talk  French  to  him,  you  see." 

"I  understand.  His  mother  was  a  French- 
woman, wasn't  she?" 

"She  is  —  she  is  not  dead." 

"They  told  my  brother  at  the  Lodge  that  she 
died  years  ago.  Is  Mr.  Warrington  divorced 
from  her?" 

"  Not  yet  — " 

"You  think  he  will  be?"  she  asked  quickly, 
and  seemed  interested. 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  I  answered,  "but  I 
should  think  both  of  them  would  want  a  divorce, 
if  they  don't  intend  to  live  together  again." 

"Yes,  I  should  think  so,"  she  agreed,  and  then 
asked  me  if  Mr.  Warrington  seemed  fond  of 
Geoffrey. 


SANDPEEP  223 

"Why,  of  course!  Why  shouldn't  he  be  fond 
of  his  own  son? " 

"True,  though  a  father  who  was  separated  from 
his  wife  might  not  be  attached  to  his  children." 

"That  isn't  the  sort  of  father  Mr.  Warrington 
is,"  I  answered.  "I  must  go  now — Geoffrey  is 
tearing  down  the  lane  after  Bonny  and  I  must 
not  lose  sight  of  him." 

"He  was  out  of  your  sight  all  the  time  you 
were  taking  your  lesson,"  she  allowed,  smiling. 

"But  he  wasn't  out  of  hearing,"  I  answered. 
"I  knew  he  was  safe  with  the  wood-chopper." 

"Yes,  he  was  perfectly  safe  with  the  wood- 
chopper,"  she  agreed. 

After  supper  I  was  practicing  a  piece  of  music 
Miss  Warrington  gave  me,  when  James  came 
to  tell  me  that  "Mr.  Haskell,  from  Bunker's 
Cove,"  wanted  to  speak  to  me  at  the  side  en- 
trance. From  the  way  James  looked,  I  know 
he  thinks,  as  Janet  does,  that  Zemro  is  my  com- 
pany. I  found  the  poor  boy  sitting  on  the  porch 
railing,  and  said,  "Hello,  Zem,"  as  cheerfully 
as  I  could. 

"Hello,"  he  answered,  and  looked  solemn  as 
an  owl. 

"Anything  the  matter  at  home?"  I  asked. 

"Nawthin  —  'cept  Aunt  Hit  hed  a  spell  of 
her  hecups  th'  smornin'." 

I  knew  he  hadn't  come  all  the  way  from  the 
Cove  just  to  tell  me  aunt  had  the  hiccoughs; 


224  SANDPEEP 

and  I  was  prepared  to  hear  him  say  what  I  did 
not  want  to  hear,  when  he  surprised  me  by  telling 
me  he  had  a  chance  to  sell  the  Keren. 

"Sell  the  Keren?  Oh,  Zem!  what  do  you 
want  to  sell  her  for?" 

"Money  —  I  want  a  hundurd  dollars." 

"But  the  sloop  is  worth  more  than  a  hundred 
dollars." 

"  Yes,  she  be,  'n'  I  cal'late  to  git  more,  but  a 
hundurd  dollar's  all  I  need  jes  now.  I  want  to 
go  cruisin'  with  '  Si '  Wasgott  to  West  Indy.  His 
vessil's  goin'  on  a  tradin'  cruise,  'n'  he  wants  I 
should  go  with  him  as  pardner.  Hiram  Besom's 
goin',  too,  'n'  Ernest  Luscom." 

"Who  will  buy  the  sloop?  "  I  asked. 

"Si's  cousin  Reuben." 

I  just  couldn't  bear  the  thought  of  anyone  but 
Zem  owning  father's  sloop,  and  I  said : 

"I  didn't  mind  it  so  much  when  you  bought 
her,  for  you  seem  like  one  of  the  family.  I  don't 
see  what  you  want  to  go  cruising  away  off  to  the 
West  Indies  for,  anyhow!" 

"Hain't  nawthin'  to  keep  me  to  home  —  now," 
he  answered,  and  he  swallowed  hard  several 
times  before  he  added:  "  'Sides,  I  allus  cal- 
'lated  to  go  on  a  long  cruise,  sometime.  Lou- 
ine  never  would  hear  to  my  goin',  'n'  now  she's 
not  here  — "  He  broke  off,  unable  to  finish 
what  he  was  going  to  say,  and  wiped  the  tears 
from  his  eyes  with  the  back  of  his  hand. 


SANDPEEP  225 

"Haven't  you  forgotten  that  you  hired  the 
sloop  and  yourself  to  Mr.  Warrington  for  as 
long  as  he  wants  you?"  I  asked,  after  a  minute. 

" N  —  no "  —  sob  —  " I  hain't "  —  sob  —  "fur- 
got—but  Aunt  Hit  'lowed  mebbe  you — could  git 
him  —  to  let  me  back  out.  I  hain't  likely  to  git 
sech  a  good  chance  to  make  some  money  again, 
'n'  Si's  a  fust-class  capting  to  ship  with." 

"What  does  aunt  say  to  selling  the  sloop?" 

"She's  willin'  I  should  sell  her,  ef  you  be." 

I  thought  for  several  minutes;  then  an  idea 
came  suddenly  into  my  head. 

"I  don't  want  to  stand  in  the  way  of  your 
making  some  money,  Zem,"  I  said.  "When 
does  Silas's  vessel  sail?" 

"Some  time  next  month." 

"All  right!  I  won't  hinder  you  from  selling 
the  sloop,  but  wait  a  few  days,  until  Saturday, 
anyhow,  before  you  tell  Reuben  he  may  have 
her  —  will  you?  " 

"Ef  you  want  I  should,"  he  agreed,  but  I 
could  see  that  he  didn't  like  the  idea. 

"Thank  you.  I  won't  ask  you  to  wait  longer 
than  Saturday.  I  may  have  something  to  tell 
you  then,  that  you  will  like  to  hear." 

"Why  don't  you  tell  it  to  me  now,  'stid  of 
waitin'  till  Sat'day,  I  want  to  know?  " 

"  Because  I  am  not  sure  of  it  myself,  now.  Just 
have  patience  until  Saturday,  and  I  promise  I  will 
ask  Mr.  Warrington  to  let  you  throw  up  your 


226  SANDPEEP 

bargain."  I  laid  my  hand  on  the  door-knob, 
and  he  got  down  from  the  railing. 

"All  right,  Sandpeep,"  he  said.  "I'll  wait  till 
Sat'day  to  please  you." 

I  was  inside  the  door  before  he  had  stepped 
off  the  porch,  for  I  was  in  a  dreadful  hurry  to 
carry  out  my  idea. 

I  hunted  up  Janet  and  asked  her  if  she 
thought  she  could  give  Miss  Helmsley  a  note 
without  anyone  seeing  her.  She  said  she  could, 
and  I  hurried  to  my  room,  and  wrote  this: 

"  Please,    Miss    Helmsley,  may    I   speak   to    you, 

right  away,  where  no  one  else  will   hear  me?     If    I 

may,  please  tell  Janet  where  will  be  the  best  place 

for  me  to  see  you,  and  oblige  me  a  thousand  times. 

"Yours  respectfully, 

"Keren  H.  Brenson. " 

Janet  soon  came  back  and  told  me  Miss 
Helmsley  would  see  me  at  once,  in  the  library. 

It  wasn't  long  before  I  was  in  the  library,  talk- 
ing fast  as  my  tongue  could  wag,  asking  Miss 
Helmsley  if  she  could  tell  me  the  name  of  the 
lady  with  hair  like  mine,  and  where  she  lived, 
and  if  she  really  believed  the  lady  would  pay  me 
a  hundred  dollars  for  my  hair. 

"Why,  Miss  Brenson,"  she  exclaimed,  "you 
surely  do  not  think  of  cutting  off  your  lovely  hair  ?  " 

"I  need  the  money  so  very  much,"  I  explained. 

"Tell  me  what  you  need  it  for?  "  and  she  asked 
so  kindly,  that  I  told  her: 


SANDPEEP  227 

"Zemro  Haskell,  the  gentleman  who  owns  the 
sloop  Mr.  Warrington  uses,  has  a  chance  to  go 
cruising  in  a  trading  vessel  and  needs  a  hundred 
dollars.  He  wants  to  sell  the  sloop,  which  used 
to  belong  to  my  father,  and  as  I  just  can't  bear 
to  think  of  anybody  but  him  or  myself  owning  her, 
I  want  the  money  to  lend  him." 

She  looked  at  me  in  such  a  knowing  way,  I 
added  quickly: 

"I  love  the  sloop  as  well  as  if  she  was  one  of 
the  family,  Miss  Helmsley;  father  built  her,  and 
called  her  after  me,  and  if  Reuben  Wasgott  buys 
her,  he  will,  just  as  like  as  not,  change  her  name, 
and  carry  her  away  down  to  Peskyeel,  where 
he  lives  - 

" Where  in  the  world  is  that?  "  she  interrupted. 

"Excuse  me,"  I  said,  and  got  red  in  the  face, 
"that  is  what  we  Cove  folks  call  Presque  Isle." 

"Oh,"  she  laughed.  "Very  well,  I  will  do 
what  I  can.  To-morrow  morning,  give  me  a 
strand  of  your  hair,  enough  to  show  the  color 
and  length,  and  I'll  send  it  to  the  lady." 

"Can  I  have  her  answer  by  Saturday?  " 

"If  she  is  at  home,  yes;  for  I  shall  ask  her  to 
reply  at  once." 

"Thank  you  a  thousand  times,  dear  Miss 
Helmsley,"  I  said,  and  I  could  have  hugged  her. 

"Don't  thank  me  until  we  hear  whether  you 
may  transform  yourself  into  a  corn-colored  mop! " 

I  may  have  been  mistaken  —  the  lamps  had 


228  SANDPEEP 

not  been  lighted  in  the  library,  and  it  was  too 
dark  to  see  plainly  —  but  I  think  I  saw  Mr. 
Fairboro  slip  out  of  one  of  the  long  windows, 
to  the  veranda,  as  I  was  going  out  the  door.  I 
should  hate  it  dreadfully  if  he  heard  what  I  told 
Miss  Helmsley. 

Not  until  after  I  had  combed  out  my  hair  care- 
fully the  next  morning,  to  cut  the  strand  for  Miss 
Helmsley,  did  I  realize  fully  what  I  intended  to 
do.  I  couldn't  bear  to  think  of  it.  I  laid  the 
scissors  on  the  table,  and  went  to  the  window, 
where  I  stood  thinking  hard,  wishing  that  dol- 
lars grew  on  trees  and  might  be  had  for  the 
picking,  like  berries.  But  there  was  no  other 
way  to  hinder  Reuben  Wasgott  from  taking  the 
Keren  away  off,  where  I  might  never  see  her 
again.  My  hair  had  to  be  cut. 

Just  then  I  saw  Zemro  crossing  the  lawn  to- 
ward the  stables,  and  I  was  sure  that  something 
had  happened  to  aunt. 

"Hello,  Zem!"  I  called. 

He  stopped,  looked  up,  then  came  toward  the 
tower,  and  said  before  I  could  speak  again: 

"Nawthin'  hain't  happened  to  Aunt  Hit.  One 
of  the  men  from  the  stable  come  to  the  Cove 
last  night,  to  ast  me  to  come  to  the  Lodge  airly 
th'  smornin',  't  Dr.  Parke  wanted  to  see  me." 

"Have  you  seen  him?    What  did  he  want?" 

"Yes,  I  seen  him,  'n'  he  wants  I  should  sell 
the  sloop  to  him  —  " 


SANDPEEP  229 

"He  wants  to  buy  the  sloop?''  I  interrupted, 
surprised.  "What  in  the  world  does  he  mean 
to  do  with  her,  I  should  like  to  know?" 

"Sail  her,  I  cal'late  —  leastways,  that's  what 
folks  doos  with  boats!  He  'lows  he'll  hire  you 
to  take  care  of  the  sloop  for  him,  when  he  hain't 
here,  'n'  I  guess  you  druther  he'd  hev  her  'n 
Reuben  Wasgott." 

"I  should  just  guess  I  would!"  I  answered. 
I  don't  know  which  I  was  gladdest  for  —  that 
the  Keren  was  not  to  be  taken  away,  or  that  my. 
hair  need  not  be  cut  off.  "Of  course,  the  doctor 
will  arrange  with  Mr.  Warrington  about  your 
throwing  up  your  bargain?"  I  allowed. 

"He  sez  he'll  fix  it  up  all  right,  'n'  Reuben  is 
to  sail  the  sloop  in  my  place.  Hain't  you  comin' 
down  to  the  door?" 

"I  can't  spare  the  time." 

"Be  you  comin'  home  Sat'day?" 

"Saturday  or  Sunday,"  I  answered;  and,  see- 
ing that  he  would  keep  on  talking  as  long  as  I 
stopped  to  listen,  I  added:  "Good-bye.  I  am 
glad  the  doctor's  going  to  buy  the  sloop,"  and 
came  away  from  the  window,  Poor  Zem! 


CHAPTER  XVII 

1MET  Dr.  Parke  in  the  lower  hall,  when  I  was 
coming  from  breakfast. 

"Good  morning,  Sandpeep,"  he  said  —  he 
always  calls  me  "Sandpeep"  when  no  one  else 
is  by  —  "I  was  just  about  to  send  for  you.  I 
want  a  few  minutes'  conversation  before  you  go 
to  the  schoolroom." 

"I  think  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  tell 
me,"  I  answered. 

"Then  you  have  seen  Haskell?" 

"Yes,  sir,  and  I  can't  tell  you  how  glad  I 
am  that  you  are  going  to  be  the  owner  of  the 
Keren" 

"And  will  you  be  her  caretaker,  when  I  don't 
want  to  use  her?  " 

"Most  willingly!  You  know  how  much  I  love 
the  dear  old  boat!  How  am  I  ever  to  pay  you 
back  for  all  your  kindness — " 

"  Tut-tut,"  he  interrupted.  "  There  is  no  special 
kindness  in  buying  a  boat  I  have  long  wanted 
to  own." 

"I  never  even  guessed  you  wanted  to  own  the 
Keren"  I  said. 

"Didn't  you?  I  didn't  discover  how  very 
much  I  wanted  it  until  —  lately." 

230 


SANDPEEP  231 

"How  lately?"  I  inquired,  a  sudden  suspicion 
coming  into  my  head. 

"Well,  to  be  accurate,  yesterday." 

"Did  you  see  Miss  Helmsley  just  before? 
Was  it  anything  she  said  to  you  that  made  you 
want  a  boat?" 

"Anything  Miss  Helmsley  said  to  me?"  he 
repeated,  with  a  little  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  letting 
on  he  was  trying  to  remember.  "Why  —  no 

—  ah,    here    comes    the    young    lady   herself!" 
as    Miss    Helmsley    came    running    down     the 
stairs,  with  a    letter    in    her    hand.     "Suppose 
you    ask    her  a  few  questions,   you    inquisitive 
Yankee!" 

Before  I  could  say  anything,  she  began: 
"Have  you  got  the  —  that  —  you  know? "  — 

holding  up  the  letter,  which  was  unsealed,  and 

giving  me  a  look  I  understood. 

"No  —  I  am  sorry  I  troubled  you  to  write  the 

letter,"    I  answered,   giving  her  the  same  kind 

of  a  look.     "You  don't  need  to  send  it.     Dr. 

Parke  has  just  told  me  he  is  going  to  buy  the 

—  buy  Zemro  HaskelFs  sloop." 

"Aha!"  she  exclaimed,  and  looked  at  the  doc- 
tor in  a  knowing  way;  "now  I  understand  the 
mysterious  carrying-on  between  you  and  Mr. 
Warrington  last  night." 

"Mysterious  carrying-on?"  he  repeated;  "did 
we  carry  on  mysteriously?" 

"You  did!    I  was  in  the  billiard-room,  wait- 


232  SANDPEEP 

ing  for  Carrington,  who  had  challenged  me  to 
a  game.  You  and  Mr.  Warrington  were  in  the 
smoking-room,  and  as  the  door  was  partly  open 
I  could  hear  every  word  you  said,  without  listen- 
ing closely.  By  and  by  I  heard  Car  at  the  door, 
which  opens  from  the  hall: 

"'Brian,  may  I  see  you  a  moment,  on  a  matter 
of  importance?'  and  Mr.  Warrington  went  into 
the  hall,  where  ensued  a  whispered  conversation. 
When  Car  joined  me  —  are  you  following  me 
closely,  Doctor?"  she  broke  off  to  ask,  shaking 
her  finger  at  him  and  smiling. 

"As  the  fox  follows  the  hare!     Proceed." 

"Well,  Car  won  the  first  shot,  and  as  he 
always  scores  eighteen  or  twenty  points  before 
he  misses,  I  had  ample  time  to  —  " 

"Eavesdrop!"  interposed  the  doctor,  laughingly. 

"I  didn't!  I  couldn't  help  hearing  what  you 
were  talking  about,  and  I  wasn't  going  to  stuff 
cotton  into  my  ears  because  two  gossiping  men 
chose  to  be  so  indiscreet  as  to  discuss  secrets 
with  the  doors  open.  Now,  don't  interrupt  me 
again  - 

"If  I  agree  to  admit  your  premises"  —  he 
did  interrupt — "will  you  agree  to  drop  further 
argument?"  He  looked  at  her  in  a  way  she 
must  have  understood,  though  I  didn't,  for  she 
laughed  again  and  said: 

"I  agree,  but  you  must  let  me  prove  how  won- 
derfully clever  I  am  at  induction  —  I  believe 


SANDPEEP  233 

that's  what  you  call  it!  I  heard  Car  tell  his  man 
last  night,  that  he  should  want  his  horse  at  six 
o'clock  this  morning.  I  knew  something  out 
of  the  ordinary  was  going  on,  for  my  young 
gentleman  isn't  one  of  your  early  birds,  usually! 
So  I  managed  to  get  awake  about  six,  and  when 
I  heard  horse-hoofs,  I  jumped  out  of  bed  and 
peeped  through  the  curtains  —  I  was  on  the 
trail  of  a  mystery,  you  know  —  well,  Car  was 
already  in  the  saddle,  when  an  elderly  person 
—  who  shall  be  nameless,  for  reasons  —  came 
hustling  out  to  the  terrace.  'Hello,  Car!'  he 
called  to  the  rider,  who  was  impatient  at  the 
delay.  'Are  you  going  near  Bunker's  Cove?' 

'"Yes  —  in  that  direction;  why?'  'If  you 
should  happen  to  see  Haskell,  tell  him  I  have 
decided  to  take  the  sloop  at  his  price.'  'Do 
you  mean  the  Keren?"1  Car  asked,  staring  at 
the  nameless  elderly  person.  Don't  you  ad- 
mire the  discreet  way  I  tell  a  story,  Doctor?" 
laughing. 

"Very  much,  indeed,  but — " 

"Wait  until  I  have  finished,"  she  interrupted. 
'Yes,'  answered  the  elderly  person,  'I  have  been 
thinking  of  buying  the  sloop  for  some  time,  but 
couldn't  make  up  my  mind  until  yesterday  — ' 
'I  dare  say,'  Car  interrupted  with  fine  irony,  'it 
was  something  Brian  told  you  last  night  that 
made  you  decide?'  'All  that  he  said,  when  I 
told  him  I  was  going  to  buy  the  sloop  was,  that 


234  SANDPEEP 

it  would  be  a  good  purchase,  as  she  is  a  superior 
boat.'  'Oh,  you're  deep,  Doctor,  deep!' 

"Car  looked  at  the  person,  then,  his  counte- 
nance expressing  what  he  was  too  polite  to  say  in 
words,  he  galloped  down  the  avenue.  When  he 
came  back  at  breakfast  time  I  saw  him  hand  a 
roll  of  banknotes  to  Mr.  Warrington,  and  heard 
him  say:  'Thanks  for  the  loan.  I  didn't  need 
the  money.  Doctor  Lem  will  explain  why!' 
There!  Mr.  Doctor,  as  our  German  friends  say, 
what  think  you  of  my  'argument'?" 

"An  argumenium  ad,  feminam,  truly,  Miss 
'  Portia'  Helmsley,"  he  answered,  and  laughed.  I 
don't  like  "Portia"  as  well  as  "Alice,"  which  is 
the  only  one  of  Miss  Helmsley 's  names  I  have 
heard,  until  the  doctor  called  her  bv  the  other 
one. 

I  understood  enough  of  what  Miss  Helmsley 
said  to  the  doctor  to  convince  me  that  I  had  seen 
Mr.  Fairboro  slip  out  of  the  library  after  I  had 
talked  to  her  about  selling  my  hair.  Kind  gen- 
tleman that  he  is!  he  was  going  to  lend  Zemro 
the  hundred  dollars  and  had  to  borrow  it  from 
Mr.  Warrington!  It  was  lucky  the  doctor  de- 
cided when  he  did.  It  prevented  Mr.  Fairboro 
from  going  into  debt,  and  made  me  the  care- 
taker, which  is  'most  as  good  as  being  owner 
of  the  dear  old  sloop. 

Though  I  had  the  care  of  Geoffrey  the  whole 
week,  all  day,  and  evening,  too,  I  was  able  to 


SANDPEEP  235 

take  a  French  lesson  every  afternoon,  for  he  was 
always  more  than  willing  to  go  to  the  cottage 
with  me.  I  had  only  to  tell  him  that,  if  he  would 
study  his  lesson  nicely,  I  would  take  him  to  see 
Mrs.  Makart,  to  make  him  try  with  all  his  might 
to  learn  it. 

I  haven't  had  a  chance  to  ask  Mr.  Warrington 
if  he  would  object  to  Geoffrey's  playing  with  the 
wood-cutter.  I  don't  believe  he  would,  though, 
if  he  could  see  how  much  his  little  son  enjoys 
himself  with  his  grown-up  playfellow.  Malston 
and  Mrs.  Makart  both  say  the  man  is  very  re- 
spectable and  honest,  and  while  Geoffrey  is  with 
him  he  is  sure  to  be  safe  from  the  tramp.  I 
haven't  made  the  man's  acquaintance  yet;  he 
is  shy  of  ladies,  Mrs.  Makart  told  me,  and 
will  not  come  into  the  house  while  I  am  there. 
He  is  a  stranger  here,  though  he  has  worked 
at  the  Headlands,  where  Malston  met  him.  I 
have  seen  him  only  once,  indeed,  and  then  only 
his  back;  he  was  galloping  like  a  horse  around 
the  back  yard  with  Geoffrey  a-straddle  of  his 
shoulders. 

"I  am  afraid  your  wood-pile  won't  grow,"  I 
said  to  Mrs.  Makart,  "if  your  wood-cutter  stops 
so  often  to  play  with  Geoffrey." 

"He  will  work  all  the  harder  for  the  playtime," 
she  answered.  If  she  is  satisfied  I  ought  to  be. 

When  I  was  leaving  the  cottage  on  Friday 
afternoon,  I  said  to  Mrs.  Makart:  "Next  week 


236  SANDPEEP 

we  can  begin  the  music  lessons.  The  visitors 
who  have  rooms  in  the  tower-wing  are  going 
away  on  Monday." 

"I  don't  like  the  idea  of  going  to  the  Lodge," 
she  answered. 

"You  needn't  be  the  least  bit  afraid  of  meeting 
anyone,"  I  told  her.  "None  of  the  family  but 
Mr.  Warrington  has  a  room  in  the  tower,  and  he 
stays  in  it  only  at  night.  He  moved  over  there 
to  be  near  Geoffrey." 

"He  must  be  fond  of  the  boy,  after  all." 

"You  do  talk  so  strangely  about  Mr.  Warring- 
ton,"  I  answered,  quite  vexed  with  her. 

"Please  excuse  me,  "v  she  apologized  humbly, 
"but  I  can't  help  thinking  that  the  gentleman, 
who  is  so  proud  and  haughty,  would  be  fonder 
of  the  dear  little  boy  if  he  were  brighter,  and 
if  —  if  —  the  mother  were  different." 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  The  poor  little 
fellow  can't  help  it  that  he  wasn't  born  smart, 
and  no  reasonable  person  would  think  less  of 
him  because  his  mother  isn't  what  she  ought  to 
be.  We  are  all  trying  our  best  to  make  him  for- 
get he  has  a  mother." 

I  was  surprised  to  see  how  angry  she  got  when 
I  said  that;  she  looked  exactly  like  one  of  our 
hens  when  she  thinks  something  is  going  to  harm 
her  chicks. 

"Do  you  imagine  you  will  succeed?"  she 
asked. 


SANDPEEP  237 

"Why,  yes,  he  forgets  easily.  Even  a  smart 
child  would  forget  his  mother  if  he  never  saw 
her,  or  heard  anyone  talk  about  her;  so  you 
can't  blame  poor  stupid  little  Geoffrey." 

I  don't  know  what  Mrs.  Makart  would  have 
answered  if  the  boy  hadn't  rushed  into  the  house 
just  then.  His  cheeks  were  red  as  fire  and  his 
eyes  shining  like  stars:  "Come!  Come!"  he 
cried,  trying  to  draw  me  toward  the  kitchen. 
"Come  see  me  jump  over  hims  head.  See  me 
do  so."  He  let  go  my  hand  and,  quick  as  a 
wink,  turned  a  "summerset,"  as  we  used  to  call 
it  at  school,  and  was  on  his  feet  again,  looking 
proud  as  a  peacock. 

"Well!"  I  exclaimed,  and  clapped  my  hands, 
which  pleased  him  greatly.  "You  are  smart 
enough  at  summersetting,  anyhow!  But  don't 
jump  over  the  man's  head  again.  You  might 
hurt  yourself.  I  must  tell  him  not  to  teach  you 
dangerous  tricks.  What  is  the  wood-cutter's 
name?"  I  asked  Mrs.  Makart.  I  was  moving 
toward  the  kitchen  when  she  stopped  me  and 
said: 

"Please  don't,  Miss  Brenson,  you  might  offend 
him,  he  is  so  touchy.  I  will  speak  to  him  myself. 
His  name  is  Andrew." 

I  made  her  promise  again  to  speak  to  him 
about  Geoffrey,  and  said  I  should  never  forgive 
myself  if  any  harm  came  to  the  boy  while  he  was 
in  my  charge. 


238  SANDPEEP 

"You  need  not  be  afraid,"  she  assured  me, 
"and  I  thank  you  —  for  his  mother  —  for  taking 
such  good  care  of  him." 

Thank  me  for  his  mother!  As  if  I  wanted 
thanks  from  the  dancing- woman !  Ever  since 
Miss  Helmsley  told  me  what  sort  of  person  Geof- 
frey's mother  is,  I  try  to  think  that  she  and  my 
finger-ring  lady  are  not  the  same.  Anyone  who 
had  seen  her  at  our  house  that  stormy  night, 
and  the  next  morning  when  she  gave  me  the  ring, 
certainly  would  not  believe  she  would  kick  up 
her  heels  on  the  back  of  a  galloping  horse! 

Miss  Warrington  told  me  on  Saturday  morning 
that  Janet  could  take  charge  of  Geoffrey  again 
over  Sunday.  So  after  dinner  I  started  to  the 
cottage  to  fetch  my  French  lesson-book,  which  I 
had  left  there  on  Friday. 

The  door  was  shut,  and  after  I  had  knocked 
twice  without  hearing  Mrs.  Makart's  "Come  in," 
—  she  is  nearly  always  in  the  front  room  wait- 
ing for  me  —  I  opened  the  door,  intending  to  take 
the  book  and  slip  away  without  letting  her  know 
I  was  there.  I  had  the  book  under  my  arm,  and 
was  tiptoeing  back  to  the  door,  when  a  clapping 
of  hands  and  a  man's  voice  exclaiming:  "Well 
done,  ma  petite  Lina!"  made  me  stop  right  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor.  I  know  enough  French 
already  to  know  that  "ma  petite"  means  "my 
little,"  and  "Lina"  is  Mrs.  Makart's  first  name. 
As  it  wasn't  Malston's  voice, 'I  was  curious  to 


Well  done,  ma  petite  Lina  '  "     PAGE  238 


SANDPEEP  239 

see  who  could  be  talking  to  her  in  such  a  familiar 
way,  and  went  into  the  kitchen  to  take  a  peep 
from  the  window.  I  saw  a  man  with  a  broad 
back,  like  the  wood-cutter's,  but  there  was  no 
beard  on  his  face.  He  made  me  think  of  some- 
one, though  I  couldn't  remember  whom. 

Just  then  he  said:  "Try  it  once  more,  petite; 
it  does  my  heart  good  to  see  you  at  your  old 
tricks  again." 

"No  more  to-day,"  Mrs.  Makart's  voice  an- 
swered. "I  am  out  of  breath.  Remember  how 
long  it  is  since  I  did  it."  She  said  something  I 
could  not  hear  and  the  man  answered: 

"Yes,  don't  think  there  is  any  danger  of  that! 
nobody  comes  up  here  but  the  governess,  and 
she  won't  be  here  for  an  hour  or  more.  Well," 
he  added,  "if  you  insist,  I  must  obey!  Between 
you  and  Gerry  I  haven't  the  peace  of  a  dog!" 
He  laughed,  put  his  hand  inside  the  bosom  of  his 
shirt,  and  took  out  a  bunch  of  black  hair,  which 
he  fastened  on  his  chin,  and  —  my  soul  and 
body !  —  it  was  the  tramp  himself !  For  a  minute 
I  was  "clean  scundered,"  as  aunt  says.  Then  I 
began  to  think:  Did  Mrs.  Makart  know  he  was 
a  dangerous  tramp?  Maybe  she  was  a  lady 
tramp!  they  certainly  were  very  well  acquainted 
with  each  other!  Was  Malston  a  tramp,  too? 
and  was  his  beard  false?  No  wonder  "Andrew" 
was  too  "shy"  to  come  into  the  cottage  while  I 
was  there!  But  — 


240  SANDPEEP 

"No  use  to  stand  here  'butting,'"  I  said  to 
myself;  "  there's  something  going  on  here  that 
needs  to  be  explained.  Honest  folks  don't  let  on 
to  be  what  they  are  not!  Maybe  there  are  other 
false  things  beside  beards!"  I  tiptoed  into  the 
front  room  and  laid  the  book  on  the  table,  ex- 
actly as  I  had  found  it,  so  that  Mrs.  Makart 
might  not  suspect  that  I  had  been  there.  Then 
I  left  the  house,  and  sneaked  like  a  fox  through 
the  bushes  outside  the  fence,  to  a  place  where  I 
could  get  a  good  look  at  the  back  yard,  and  see 
what  was  going  on. 

Something  was  going  on,  sure  enough!  or, 
rather,  something  had  gone  off!  A  gray  wig;  a 
black  veil;  a  pair  of  blue  specs!  They  were  ly- 
ing on  a  box,  and  beside  them  sat  a  handsome 
young  lady,  with  Mrs.  Makart's  voice.  Two 
long  braids  of  hair,  black  as  her  shining  eyes, 
hung  down  her  back  to  her  waist,  and  such  a 
frock  as  she  had  on!  The  skirt  was  short  as 
an  under-petticoat,  just  a  little  below  her  knees; 
the  body  was  like  that  of  a  baby's  frock,  low 
neck,  and  just  little  straps  over  her  shoulders  for 
sleeves!  White  slippers  were  on  her  little  feet. 
Though  I  was  dreadfully  shocked,  I  couldn't 
help  but  admire  her,  she  looked  so  lovely.  But 
the  very  idea  of  wearing  a  frock  like  that  before 
a  man! 

I  was  afraid  I  might  be  seen,  so  I  crept  away, 
noiselessly  as  I  had  come,  and  ran  down  the  lane, 


SANDPEEP  241 

fast  as  I  could  go,  intending  to  tell  Dr.  Parke 
what  I  had  seen  and  heard.  I  could  not  have 
told  Mr.  Warrington!  At  the  Lodge  gates  I 
met  Malston  with  two  horses  he  was  exercis- 
ing. He  stopped  and  asked  me  if  I  wouldn't 
like  another  riding  lesson. 

"Not  this  morning,  thank  you,"  I  answered; 
"I  haven't  time." 

"That   is   a   pity!      You   might   ride    in   the 
avenue,   as   everybody  at   the  Lodge  has   gone 
away  on  the  yacht,  to  be  gone  until  to-morrow." 
"Did  Dr.  Parke  go,  too?" 
"Yes,  Miss;  and  the  little  master." 
He  must  have  noticed  how  put  out  I  was,  for 
,   he  looked  sharply  at  me  for  a  second,  before  he 
galloped  off  up  the  lane. 

I  wish  I  could  have  been  a  mouse,  with  my 
ears,  when  he  and  the  other  two  deceitful 
creatures  at  the  cottage  got  together! 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

"¥  WAS  jes'  thinkin'  you  wa'n't  comin'  home 

to-day,"  aunt  said,  when  I  walked  into  the 

shed    where    she    was    shucking    lobsters. 

"The  Ella    Eudory's   'most   ready   for   sea,  'n' 

Zemro's  over  to  the  Haven  now," 

"The  Ella  Eudora?  Oh,  you  mean  Si  Was- 
gott's  vessel.  I  guess  Zem  is  anxious  to  be 
off?"  I  said,  and  hung  up  my  hat. 

"He  —  wus." 

"Was?  Isn't  he  now?  I  thought  all  the 
papers  were  signed  for  him  to  go." 

"So  they  be;  but  Zemro  'lows  he'll  be  willin' 
to  resk  losin'  the  hundurd  dollars  he  put  into  the 
vessil,  ef  he  was  certing  he  could  git  a  chance 
haulin'  wood,  or  somethin',  to  the  Headlands. 
Then  he  could  come  home  Sundays,  to  meetin'." 

"He  must  have  got  rich  all  of  a  sudden  to  talk 
about  losing  a  hundred  dollars,"  I  allowed. 
"What  has  come  over  him?  He  must  be  out 
of  his  mind." 

"  'Pears  'sef  you  druther  he  went  away  'n 
stop  to  home,"  aunt  said  after  a  minute. 

"I  certainly  think  he  ought  not  to  back  out, 
now  that  he  has  the  chance  he  has  wanted  all  his 
life." 

242 


SANDPEEP  243 

"I  shell  be  pow'ful  lonesome  when  Zemro's 
gone." 

"Not  any  more  lonesome  than  you  were  before 
he  came  to  stop  with  you." 

"N — n — o,  only  I  hev  got  used  to  hevin'  him 
'round,  'n'  he's  pow'ful  handy." 

"Yes,  and  he's  kind;  but  we  can't  expect  him 
to  stop  with  us  always." 

"Guess  he'd  admire  to,"  aunt  allowed,  in  a 
way  that  made  me  stop,  pail  and  broom  in  hand, 
to  look  at  her. 

"Why,  Aunt  Hit  Brenson,  I  do  believe  you 
want  him  to  stay  at  home!" 

She  got  red  in  the  face,  really  and  truly! 

"  'Tain't  me,  Sandpeep,  wants  he  should  stop 
to  home;  it's  Zemro  hisself.  He  'lows  't  me  'n' 
you  won't  hev  no  one  to  do  anything  fur  us,  cut 
wood,  'n'  — " 

"As  if  I  couldn't  do  that  myself,"  I  inter- 
rupted. "I  guess  if  he  would  tell  the  honest 
truth,  he's  afraid  of  getting  seasick,  so  far  away 
from  the  land." 

"  'Tain't  Zemro's  stummick  thet  troubles  him, 
—  it's  —  it's  —  higher  up,"  and  a  sly  smile 
showed  among  the  wrinkles  at  the  corners  of 
her  eyes. 

"He's  got  the  'palpitations,'  has  he,  like  Lou- 
ine  used  to  have  them?"  I  said,  and  laughed. 

"Not  'jes  ezackly  like  Louine's,  they  hain't. 
Zemro  sets  a  heap  of  store  by  you,  Sandpeep,  'n' 


244  SANDPEEP 

ef  you  would  ast  him  to  stop  to  home,  he'd  kerry 
you  'round  on  his  hands,  'n'  — 

"He'd  have  a  time  carrying  me  around  on  his 
hands,"  I  interrupted,  and  laughed  again.  Then 
1  said  more  seriously:  "I  see  now  why  you  are 
talking  this  way  about  Zem,  and  you  may  just  as 
well  stop,  for  I  won't  — >  have  —  him!  There!" 

"Wall,  you  needn't  bite  my  head  off,"  aunt 
answered.  "I  hain't  said  't  I  wanted  you  should 
hev  him;  I  jes'  promised  I  would  ast  you." 

" Oho!  You  just  promised  you  would  ask  me? 
You  dreadful,  sly  old  Aunt  Hit!  Well,  you  can 
tell  him  you  asked  me,  and  that  I  said,  'No, 
ma'am,  thank  you  kindly.'  Now,  put  on  your 
bonnet,  and  go  to  see  Mandy,  or  somebody  else. 
I'm  going  to  give  this  house  a  regular  cleaning, 
and  I  don't  want  cluttering  folks  in  my  way! 
Here's  your  bonnet,"  —  I  fetched  it  from  behind 
the  door,  and  put  it  on  her  head,  —  "Now,  be 
off  with  you,  you  sly  old  boots!"  After  I  had 
kissed  her,  and  given  her  a  good  hug  —  "and 
don't  you  come  sparking  me  again,  for  Zemro, 
or  anybody  else." 


Zemro  did  not  get  back  from  South  Haven 
until  late  in  the  evening.  Aunt  and  I  had  gone 
to  bed,  she  hi  the  spare-chamber,  and  I  in  the 
loft,  where  I  sleep  while  Zem  is  with  us,  and  has 
the  closet-room. 


SANDPEEP  245 

I  heard  him  come  into  the  shed,  where  he  took 
.off  his  boots  before  coming  into  the  kitchen; 
then  he  tiptoed  to  the  front  door,  and  I  knew  he 
had  gone  there  to  see  if  my  hat  was  on  the  peg. 
Poor  silly  boy!  I  wish  he  did  not  think  so  much 
of  me! 

I  lay  awake  a  long  time  after  Zem  had  gone 
to  bed,  watching  the  moonlight  creep  along  the 
rafters,  and  thinking,  thinking.  One's  brain 
must  be  glad  when  sleep  closes  the  eyes  and  it 
is  free  to  do  as  it  likes.  Then,  its  playtime  has 
come.  My  brain  had  a  good  time,  after  I  went 
to  sleep  at  last,  playing  with  a  little  barefooted 
Sandpeep,  who  ran,  and  hopped  along  the  shore, 
just  like  the  other  little  Sandpeeps  with  feathers. 
She  waded  in  the  water,  sang  strange  songs,  let 
the  little  waves  tug  at  her  skirts  and  wash  over 
her  bare  knees;  let  a  smiling,  joking,  fairy-story 
prince  draw  her  picture,  which  he  called  the  pict- 
ure of  a  mermaid.  Then  the  prince  and  the 
waves  and  the  beach  vanished,  and  the  same 
little  Sandpeep  was  in  a  beautiful  garden,  pick- 
ing flowers  that  looked  like  silver  quarters;  and 
a  lovely  fairy  queen  came,  and  gave  her  a  shiny 
ring  that  looked  like  the  moon.  It  was  the 
moon,  too;  for  when  Sandpeep  tried  to  put  it  on 
her  finger,  it  flew  away,  up  to  the  sky,  where  it 
hung  among  the  stars,  and  laughed  and  laughed, 
when  the  fairy  queen  jumped  on  a  snow-white 
horse,  and  began  to  dance  and  kick  up  her  heels 


246  SANDPEEP 

to  the  music  the  wind  played  on  a  big  fiddle  with 
strings  made  of  yellow  hair! 

Oh,  but  it  was  a  funny  dream!  The  sun  shin- 
ing on  my  face  wakened  me  from  it,  and  a  strong 
smell  of  frying  fish  told  me  how  long  I  had  let 
my  brain  do  as  it  pleased. 

I  jumped  out  of  bed  and  began  to  put  on  my 
clothes.  I  don't  wash  and  comb  myself  in  the 
shed  now,  as  I  used  before  I  went  to  the  Lodge. 
I  have  a  barrel  I  found  among  the  driftwood  on 
the  shore,  for  a  table,  and  a  tin  basin  I  bought  at 
the  Headlands;  a  piece  of  looking-glass  fastened 
against  the  wall  with  tacks,  does  for  a  "mirror.'* 

I  was  combing  the  tangles  out  of  my  hair 
and  thinking  over  my  strange  dream.  "There!" 
I  exclaimed,  when  a  sudden  thought  popped 
jnto  my  head.  "That  is  just  who  she  is! 
The  finger-ring  lady  —  Geoffrey's  mother  —  the 
dancing- woman  —  Mr.  Warrington's  wife!  What 
a  stupid  not  to  have  guessed  it  when  I  saw  her 
without  the  gray  wig  and  blue  specs!  Just  to 
think!  all  the  time  I  have  been  pitying  the  de- 
ceitful creature  and  taking  Geoffrey  to  see  her 
because  she  grieved  for  her  own  little  boy,  she 
has  been  laughing  at  me!  She  and  Malston  and 
Andrew  must  have  had  lots  of  fun  talking  about 
me.  I  wonder  who  Andrew  is?  Another  brother, 
I  dare  say;  and  because  he  found  he  couldn't 
steal  Geoffrey,  the  three  of  them  came  here  to 
live.  The  dancing- woman  is  fond  of  her  little 


SANDPEEP  247 

boy,  after  all,  and  I  should  like  to  tell  Miss 
Helmsley  so,  but  I  must  not  breathe  to  a  soul 
what  I  have  found  out,  until  the  doctor  comes 
back.  He  will  know  what  is  best  to  do;  and 
until  he  comes  I  must  keep  my  mouth  shut  and 
my  eyes  and  ears  open  - 

"  Be  you  comin'  down  soon,  Sandpeep?" 
Aunt's  voice  interrupted  my  wondering  and 
thinking  and  made  me  hurry  down  to  breakfast. 

Zemro,  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  came  in  from  the 
shed  as  I  was  climbing  down  the  loft-ladder,  and 
without  looking  toward  me,  or  saying  a  word, 
sat  down  at  the  table  and  helped  himself  to  the 
fish-hash. 

I  made  up  my  mind  to  let  him  grump  all  he 
had  a  mind  to;  I  would  not  speak  first.  I  just 
talked  to  aunt  as  if  he  weren't  there.  When  he 
had  swallowed  the  last  bite  of  doughnut  and 
emptied  his  cup,  he  pushed  his  chair  back  from 
the  table,  got  up,  and  said: 

"The  Ella  Eudory's  goin'  to  sail  't  flood  tide 
t' morrow  mornin'.  I  shell  go  aboard  th' 
sevenin'." 

"Aunt  has  told  him  her  sparking  wasn't  any 
use,"  I  said  to  myself;  to  him  I  said,  forgetting 
my  resolution  not  to  speak  first:  "I  do  hope  you 
may  have  a  pleasant  voyage,  Zem,  and  lots  of 
good  luck!" 

"I  hain't  cal'latin'  hevin'  much  good  luck," 
he  allowed,  without  looking  toward  me;  "hain't 


248  SANDPEEP 

never  hed  any.  Jes'  like's  not,  one  of  them 
West  Indy  harricanes  '11  blow  the  Ella  Eudory  to 
flinders,  V  I  don't  care  a  dum  ef  it  doos!" 

"Now,  Zemro  Haskell,"  aunt  looked  up  from 
blowing  the  hot  coffee  in  her  saucer  to  say, 
"you're  flyin'  in  the  face  of  Prov'dence,  talkin' 
so.  Don't  guess  Si  Wasgott  wants  a  harricane 
should  blow  his  vessil  to  flinders.  There,"  as  he 
was  going  to  answer  back,  "don't  you  git  sassy. 
I  won't  hev  it.  You  jes'  go  'long  'n'  clean  your- 
self up  fur  meetin'.  Sech  talk 's  wicked  's  cussin', 
so  't  be." 

He  hunched  his  shoulders,  and  looked  what 
he  didn't  dare  say  after  the  scolding;  but  he 
slammed  the  shed  door  so  hard  that  every  dish 
on  the  table  jumped.  I  pity  the  poor  boy  after 
all.  It  is  just  dreadful  not  to  have  anything  to 
look  forward  to. 

As  I  didn't  want  to  be  alone  with  Zem  before 
he  went  to  South  Haven,  I  invited  Aramanda 
Stinson  to  spend  the  last  evening  at  home  with 
us.  She  was  very  glad  to  come,  for  she  likes 
Zem  —  and  who  wouldn't,  if  he  didn't  want  to 
marry  her?  But  he  managed  after  all  to  say, 
when  he  was  bidding  me  good-bye:  "Mebbe  I 
hain't  's  smart  's  thet  rusticator,  Sandpeep,  'n' 
hevn't  got  es  nice  close,  but  I'm  willin'  to  bet 
the  money  the  doctor  guv  me  fur  the  sloop,  all 
but  the  hundurd  dollars  'ts  in  the  Ella  Eudory, 
'n'  which  you're  to  hev  ef  I  don't  come  back, 


SANDPEEP  249 

thet  he  wouldn't  set  more  store  by  you  'n  I 
would,  ef  you  would  of  bed  me."  Then  he 
swallowed  hard,  and  squeezed  my  hand  so  tight 
the  ringers  ached  for  ever  so  long  afterward. 
Poor  Zem! 


CHAPTER  XIX 

1HAD  walked  about  a  mile  from  home,  on 
Monday  morning,  when  I  met  the  cart  com- 
ing to  fetch  me.  Malston  was  driving. 

"I  am  sorry  I  am  so  late,  Miss,"  he  said, 
when  he  helped  me  in,  "but  one  of  the  traces 
broke  soon  after  I  left  the  stables,  and  it  took  me 
some  time  to  mend  it." 

I  told  him  I  should  not  have  minded  walking 
all  the  way,  and  asked  if  the  Kelpie  had  come 
back. 

"Yes,  Miss;   last  night." 

"Is  Mrs.  —  Makart  well?"  I  asked  after  a 
minute,  though  I  could  hardly  call  her  by  that 
name. 

"Yes,  Miss,  thank  you.  Though  my  sister  does 
not  look  strong,  she  has  very  good  health  —  if 
only  she  could  get  over  the  loss  of  her  little  boy!" 

"Don't  you  think  she  is  more  cheerful?"  I 
asked,  and  as  he  had  turned  to  look  at  some- 
thing on  his  side  of  the  road,  I  took  a  good  look 
at  his  beard;  but  I  couldn't  tell  if  it  was  stuck 
on  like  Andrew's,  it  looked  so  natural. 

"Sometimes  I  think  she  is,  Miss.  She  used  to 
be  happy  as  the  day  is  long,  but  the  loss  of  her 
boy  was  a  terrible  blow," 

250 


SANDPEEP  251 

Such  deceitf ulness !  I  was  so  vexed  with  him 
that  I  could  not  say  a  word;  and  he  did  not 
speak  again  until  we  were  near  the  Lodge  gates. 
Then  he  said: 

"I  hope  you  will  call  at  the  cottage  this  after- 
noon, Miss,  and  take  the  little  master  with  you. 
My  poor  sister  gets  so  lonely  when  she  does  not 
see  you  every  day." 

I  told  him  I  did  not  know  if  I  should  be  able 
to  take  a  lesson  that  afternoon.  I  would  rather 
never  see  the  dancing- woman  again. 

"My  sister  might  go  to  the  Lodge  to  give  you 
a  music  lesson,"  he  allowed. 

"If  I  am  too  busy  to  go  to  the  cottage,  I 
shouldn't  have  time  to  take  a  music  lesson,"  I 
answered,  in  a  way  that  made  him  say  quickly: 

"Please  pardon  me,  Miss,  for  being  so  imperti- 
nent as  to  suggest  that  my  sister  should  go  to  see 
you.  My  anxiety  about  her  —  I  am  really  afraid 
she  may  lose  her  mind  —  makes  me  forget  my 
place.  She  has  become  attached  to  you,  and 
already  grieves  at  the  thought  of  losing  you  and 
the  little  master." 

"She  doesn't  need  to  grieve  yet,"  I  answered 
coldly.  "She  won't  lose  us  for  several  months; 
not  until  Miss  Warrington  goes  back  to  the  city." 

"When  will  that  be,  may  I  ask,  Miss?" 

"I  don't  know;  some  time  next  fall.  I  shouldn't 
think  she  would  care  to  stay  after  Mr.  Warring- 
ton  goes  — ' 


252  SANDPEEP 

"When  is  he  going?"  Malston  was  in  such  a 
hurry  to  ask  the  question,  he  forgot  that  it  was 
"impertinent"  to  interrupt  me.  I  told  him  I  did 
not  know,  but  when  he  asked  if  I  knew  where  he 
was  going,  I  said: 

"To  Africa,  I  believe;  I  heard  the  family  talk 
about  it  at  the  breakfast  table  one  morning." 

"He  would  not  be  likely  to  take  the  little 
master  with  him,  would  he?" 

"I  don't  know.  Mr.  Warrington  doesn't  tell 
me  what  he  intends  to  do,  and  I  never  ask  him." 

I  guess  that  gave  him  to  understand  I  didn't 
make  a  practice  of  peeking  into  other  folks'  busi- 
ness, and  neither  of  us  spoke  again  until  he 
helped  me  out  of  the  cart,  when  I  thanked  him 
for  coming  for  me. 

I  could  hardly  wait  until  I  got  into  the  house, 
I  was  so  anxious  to  see  the  doctor.  Mr.  War- 
rington was  on  the  terrace,  and  after  I  had 
answered  his  pleasant  "Good-morning,  Miss 
Brenson,"  I  asked  if  he  knew  where  Dr.  Parke 
was. 

"He  and  Mr.  Fairboro  have  gone  to  New 
York." 

"To  New  York?"  I  said,  like  an  echo.  I  felt 
as  if  my  heart  had  stopped  beating,  as  if  some- 
body had  hit  me  and  knocked  the  breath  out 
of  me. 

"The  news  seems  to  distress  you?"  he  al- 
lowed, looking  sharply  at  me. 


SANDPEEP  253 

"It  —  does  —  sir,"  I  answered;  and  I  hurried 
into  the  house.  I  met  Miss  Helmsley  and  Mrs. 
Warrington  in  the  lower  hall,  dressed  to  go  out. 

"Oh,  here  you  are!"  Miss  Helmsley  ex- 
claimed. "I  want  to  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am 
that  I  sha'n't  be  able  to  continue  the  rowing 
lessons,  unless,"  smiling  at  me,  "you  will  come 
to  North  Haven  to  stay  with  me?" 

"I  couldn't  do  that,"  I  answered,  and  my 
voice  seemed  miles  away. 

"No,  I  know  you  couldn't;  Geoffrey  could  not 
spare  his  patient  teacher.  But  you  must  come 
to  see  me  some  time.  I  had  no  idea,  when  we 
were  out  rowing  the  other  day,  that  our  cottage 

—  we  are  going  to  call  it  Umberleigh  —  would 
be  ready  for  us  so  soon.     I  am  heartily  sorry  to 
leave  the  Lodge,  and  my  rowing  teacher,"  giving 
my  hand  a  little  squeeze. 

I  thanked  her,  and  went  up-stairs  to  Miss 
Warrington' s  sitting-room,  to  ask  her  if  the  doctor 
was  coming  back.  I  could  not  stop  to  ask  Mr. 
Warrington;  I  just  can't  bear  to  have  him  look 
at  me  as  he  did  —  as  if  he  did  not  trust  me. 

"I  think  he  may,  in  a  couple  of  weeks,"  Miss 
Warrington  answered;  then  she  asked  me  if  I 
was  ill. 

"No,  thank  you;  I  am  only  very  sorry  the  doc- 
tor is  not  here.  I  wanted  to  speak  to  him  about 

—  something." 

"If  the  'something'  is  important,  I  can  give 


254  SANDPEEP 

you  his  New  York  address,"  she  said,  and  she 
looked  at  me  in  a  strange  way,  too. 

I  said  I  could  wait,  and  went  on  to  my  room. 
I  could  not  have  trusted  to  a  letter  what  I  wanted 
to  tell  the  doctor,  for  Malston  always  carries  the 
mail  to  the  Headlands  post-office.  The  person 
who  will  tell  and  act  a  lie,  will  do  other  mean 
things.  Malston  certainly  has  told  me  more  than 
one  lie,  and  he  acts  one  every  day.  I  will  just 
wait  and  keep  my  eyes  and  ears  open  until  the 
doctor  gets  back.  I  don't  believe  Andrew  will 
try  to  run  away  with  Geoffrey,  so  long  as  his 
mother  is  allowed  to  see  him  every  day,  and  I'll 
take  good  care  to  let  her  do  that,  much  as  I  dis- 
like to  go  to  the  cottage  now. 

The  door  of  Mr.  Warrington's  room  was  open 
and  one  of  the  maids  was  making  the  bed,  when 
I  passed  through  the  hall. 

"Is  that  you,  Janet?"  she  called.  "Do  come 
here  and  see  what  I  have  done." 

I  stepped  to  the  door  and  said,  "It  isn't  Janet, 
Agnes;  can  I  do  anything  for  you?" 

"Oh,  Miss  Brenson!  please  excuse  me.  Just 
see  here  what  I  have  done,"  she  added,  near  to 
crying.  "This  picture  was  standing  on  the  floor 
beside  the  wash-stand,  and  I  spilled  some  water 
over  it.  See  how  it  is  daubed." 

One  corner  of  the  picture  was  spoiled,  but 
enough  was  left  to  show  a  blue  sky  and  sea,  a 
gull  or  two,  little  waves  near  the  shore,  and  in 


SANDPEEP  255 

them,  knee-deep,  a  little  girl  holding  up  her 
skirts  with  both  hands,  and  looking  at  you  with 
big,  dark  eyes,  from  under  tangled  yellow  hair. 

It  was  little  Sandpeep,  sure  enough!  —  the 
"mermaid,"  with  two  bare  feet  instead  of  a  fish- 
tail! 

"What  shall  I  do,  Miss?"  Agnes  asked,  much 
distressed. 

"I  don't  believe  Mr.  Warrington  will  scold,"  I 
said.  "He  must  have  painted  the  picture,  and 
can  easily  paint  that  corner  over.  I  should  just 
tell  him  how  it  happened." 

"Oh,  good  gracious,  Miss!  not  for  the  world 
could  I  tell  him,  he  always  looks  so  cross. 
Please,  Miss  Brenson,  won't  you  tell  him  that  I 
couldn't  help  it?" 

She  looked  so  worried  I  pitied  her,  and  said 
I  would  do  what  I  could;  but  to  myself  I  said  I 
would  speak  to  Miss  Warrington  instead  and  ask 
her  to  explain.  I  don't  like  to  talk  to  him,  either, 
when  he  is  cross. 

There  was  nothing  to  keep  me  from  going  to 
the  cottage  after  lessons,  so,  after  we  had  had  our 
dinner,  we  started.  I  had  seen  Miss  Warrington 
on  the  terrace  from  my  window,  and  told  Geof- 
frey to  wait  with  Bonny  for  me  on  the  lawn,  in- 
tending to  speak  to  her  about  Agnes;  but  as  I 
was  passing  the  door  of  Mr.  Warrington' s  room, 
it  opened,  and  he  came  out. 

"Miss    Brenson?"    he    called,    and    when    I 


256  SANDPEEP 

stopped  he  asked  me  if  Geoffrey  had  been  in 
his  room  that  morning.  I  knew  right  away  why 
he  asked. 

"If  you  think  he  spoiled  the  picture,  sir,  you 
are  mistaken.  Agnes  spilled  some  water  over  it. 
I  was  just  going  to  speak  to  Miss  Warrington 
about  it,  and  ask  her  to  explain  to  you  how  it 
happened.  Agnes  is  dreadfully  sorry,  sir." 

"It  is  well  that  I  spoke  to  you,"  he  answered; 
and  he  did  not  look  in  the  least  vexed,  "for 
I  don't  want  my  aunt  to  know  that  I  am  going 
to  give  her  the  little  water-color  sketch.  It  is  a 
surprise  for  her  birthday.  Wait  a  moment!" 
He  went  into  his  room  and  fetched  the  picture. 
"Do  you  recognize  this?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  recognized  it  at  once  when  Agnes 
showed  me  how  she  had  spoiled  it.  It  is  a  pretty 
picture." 

"You  did  not  think  so  once!"  smiling  at  me. 
He  looked  so  like  the  fiddlestring  gentleman  then 
—  all  but  the  moustache  —  that  I  could  almost 
have  believed  I  was  little  Sandpeep  again,  with 
the  waves  tickling  my  bare  knees. 

"No,  because  it  wasn't  colored  then,"  I  an- 
swered, and  smiled  too.  "I  hope  you  will  be  able 
to  fix  it  up  without  much  trouble,  sir." 

He  said  he  could,  and  I  went  on  down-stairs. 


CHAPTER  XX 

1WAS  walking  slowly  up  the  lane,  so  as  not 
to  get  too  far  ahead  of  Geoffrey,  who  was 
chasing  after  squirrels  among  the  bushes, 
when  I  met  Mrs.  Makart  running  as  fast  as  she 
could. 

"What  in  the  world  is  the  matter?"  I  asked. 

She  was  breathing  hard  and  pressed  both 
hands  against  her  heart  when  she  stopped  be- 
side me. 

"Nothing  —  nothing  —  '  she  could  hardly 
speak  —  "I  —  heard  —  oh,  Miss  Brenson!  have 
they  taken  him  away  from  me  again?" 

"Do  you  mean  Geoffrey?"  I  asked,  though  I 
knew  very  well  she  did. 

"Yes  —  yes!" — wildly;  "my  boy  —  my  prec- 
ious angel." 

Just  then  the  "precious  angel"  came  running 
out  of  the  bushes.  She  caught  him  in  her  arms, 
and  kissed  and  hugged  him  so,  I  thought  she 
would  smother  him.  If  I  had  not  found  out  that 
she  is  Geoffrey's  mother  I  should  certainly  have 
believed  she  had  gone  out  of  her  mind. 

"If  I  had  known  you  were  coming  to  see  me," 
I  said  —  and  I  pretended  I  had  not  noticed  her 
strange  acting  —  "I  should  have  waited  for  you 

257 


258  SANDPEEP 

at  the  Lodge.  Now  that  you  are  so  near  there, 
I  will  go  back  with  you,  and  you  can  give  me  a 
music,  instead  of  a  French,  lesson." 

Before  she  could  answer,  Geoffrey  began  to 
kick  and  scream. 

"No  —  no  —  no!  I  will  not  go  back  to  the 
big  house.  I  will  go  to  the  cottage.  I  will  play 
with  hims." 

"My  dear  Geoffrey,"  I  said,  and  took  hold  of 
his  hand,  "we  must  go  back  to  the  big  house, 
because  Mrs.  Makart,  good,  kind  Mrs.  Makart, 
wants  to  pay  us  a  visit.  Come!" 

He  snatched  his  hand  from  mine  and  ran  up 
the  lane  fast  as  he  could  go.  . 

Mrs.  Makart  laughed,  and  said,  "The  dar- 
ling!" and  ran  after  him.  When  she  caught 
him,  she  knelt  beside  him  and  pressed  him  close 
to  her  breast.  He  fought  and  kicked  for  a 
minute;  then  stopped  and  looked  at  her  in  a 
puzzled  way.  The  next  minute  he  was  laughing 
and  chattering  French,  and  walking  by  her  side 
toward  me. 

"You  see  how  easily  I  can  manage  him,"  she 
said,  looking  at  me  proudly.  "Only  mothers 
know  how  to  conquer  naughty  children." 

"You  do  seem  to  know  how  to  make  Geoffrey 
behave,"  I  allowed. 

"I  can  manage  all  children,"  she  assured  me. 
"I  know  you  must  think  I  acted  very  strangely 
just  now,  but  life  is  so  uncertain,  and  I  am  al- 


SANDPEEP  259 

ways  expecting  something  terrible  to  happen, 
since  I  lost  my  boy  I  have  grown  to  love  dear 
little  Geoffrey  and  I  was  sure  something  had  hap- 
pened when  you  did  not  come  to  the  cottage  at 
the  usual  hour.  I  had  not  heard  that  the  boy 
was  back  from  his  little  journey." 

As  no  answer  was  needed,  I  said  nothing,  and 
after  a  minute  she  asked  if  I  had  heard  when  Mr. 
Warrington  intended  to  go  to  Africa;  her  brother 
had  told  her  the  gentleman  was  going  to  hunt 
elephants  and  tigers. 

I  told  her  I  had  not  heard;  then  she  allowed 
that  it  wasn't  likely  Geoffrey  would  go  to  Africa, 
too. 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  I  answered.  "I 
guess  he  will  be  sent  to  a  good  school  — " 

"School?"  she  interrupted.  "Send  an  inno- 
cent baby  like  him  to  school?" 

"Geoffrey's  rather  a  good-sized  'baby/'  I 
said,  and  smiled.  "He  must  be  at  least  ten 
years  old." 

"No;  he  is  only  —  no,  I  don't  think  he  is  as 
old  as  that." 

"He  looks  it,"  I  said,  and  pretended  I  had  not 
noticed.  I  know  she  thinks  me  as  stupid  as  her 
stupid  little  son,  and  I  shall  let  her  keep  on 
thinking  so  until  Dr.  Parke  comes  back. 

"Well,  if  he  is  ten,"  she  said,  "he  is  not  bright 
enough  to  be  sent  to  school  among  a  lot  of  rough 
boys,  who  would  tease  and  abuse  him." 


260  SANDPEEP 

"I  guess  he  would  be  able  to  take  care  of 
himself,"  and  I  laughed.  "He  knows  mid- 
dling well  how  to  kick  and  scratch." 

"The  dear  lamb!  he  is  so  full  of  life,"  she 
said,  and  I  could  imagine  how  fondly  her  eyes 
behind  the  blue  specs  looked  after  the  "dear 
lamb,"  who  was  chasing  after  a  rabbit  and  yell- 
ing like  a  wild  Indian. 

When  I  unlocked  the  tower-door,  Mrs.  Makart 
said:  "My  brother  told  me  how  carefully  every- 
thing is  kept  locked  up  here.  They  must  be 
afraid  of  being  robbed." 

"I  dare  say  they  are,  because  they  have  some- 
thing worth  stealing,"  I  answered.  "We  long- 
shore folks  haven't,  so  we  never  think  of  locking 
our  doors." 

"Poverty  has  its  advantages,"  she  allowed, 
laughing,  and  added,  as  she  stepped  into  my 
room,  "but  you  can't  complain  of  its  disadvan- 
tages, in  this  cosy  nest." 

"No,  indeed;  and  I  owe  all  this  comfort  to 
dear  Miss  Warrington,  who  is  kindness  itself. 
Now,  play  something  for  me." 

I  opened  the  piano,  but  she  sat  down  in  the 
rocking-chair,  saying: 

"Let  me  rest  first.  Really,  I  am  almost  afraid 
to.  try  to  play,  it  is  so  long  since  I  touched  the  keys. 
Let  us  talk,  and  not  bother  about  a  lesson.  You 
can't  imagine  how  lonely  it  is  for  me  at  that  dreary 
cottage,  with  no  one  to  talk  to  all  day  long!" 


SANDPEEP  261 

"Why,  there  is  Andrew,  if  you  want  somebody 
to  talk  to,  and  your  brother  in  the  evening,"  I 
allowed,  and  I  looked,  or  tried  to  look,  as  stupid 
as  Geoffrey  is. 

"Oh,"  —  she  turned  up  her  nose,  —  "they  are 
men!  Besides,  my  brother  doesn't  like  me  to 
make  a  companion  of  a  common  laborer." 

"I  guess  he  is  something  besides  a  'common 
laborer,' "  I  said  to  myself;  and  if  tramps  have 
other  trades  than  wood-cutting,  I  am  going  to 
find  out  what  his  is.  To  Mrs.  Makart  I  said: 

"Well,  then,  we  won't  begin  lessons;  but  I  do 
want  to  hear  you  play  just  a  little  piece,  please." 

"I  have  forgotten  everything  I  knew,"  she 
said,  but  she  took  her  seat  at  the  piano,  and 
struck  a  few  chords.  "These  keys  are  very 
stiff." 

To  me  the  fingers  seemed  a  good  deal  stiffer 
than  the  keys,  but  I  said: 

"It  is  an  old  piano,  but  Miss  Warrington 
thought  it  would  do  very  well  for  me  to  prac- 
tice on." 

She  struck  a  few  more  chords,  then  began  to 
play  what  sounded  more  like  an  exercise  in  the 
lesson-book  than  a  regular  tune;  and  the  longer 
she  played,  the  more  certain  I  became  that  she 
did  not  know  as  much  about  notes  as  I  did.  She 
must  have  seen  what  was  in  my  mind,  for  when 
she  stopped  playing  and  turned  toward  me,  she 
said: 


262  SANDPEEP 

"I  know  you  must  be*  laughing  at  me  for 
playing  a  simple  thing  like  that;  but  I  told  you 
I  had  forgotten  everything.  It  will  come  back  to 
me,  I  dare  say,  after  I  have  practiced  a  few 
times.  Now,"  and  she  got  up  from  the  piano- 
stool,  "let  me  hear  how  much  you  have  learned 
by  yourself." 

I  sat  down,  and  played  one  of  the  easy  little 
pieces  Miss  Warrington  gave  me.  I  didn't  even 
take  the  trouble  to  get  the  notes  out,  for  I  know 
the  piece  by  heart,  and  I  played  it,  as  the  Elder 
would  say,  "with  the  sperit  'n'  the  understandin' 
also."  When  I  swung  around  after  I  had  finished, 
Mrs.  Makart  was  looking  at  me  in  such  a  strange 
way;  I  could  not  tell  if  she  was  surprised,  or 
angry,  or  both. 

"I  thought  you  told  my  brother  you  did  not 
know  anything  about  music,"  she  said  sharply. 

"I  told  him  I  didn't  know  anything  about  the 
piano,"  I  answered.  "I  don't  know  much  about 
any  instrument  except  the  parlor  organ,  and  I 
have  taken  only  a  few  lessons  on  that;  but  it 
wasn't  hard  to  pick  out  the  few  little  pieces  Miss 
Warrington  gave  me.  What  I  want  to  learn 
from  you  is  a  little  more  about  the  notes." 

She  stared  out  of  the  window  for  several  min- 
utes as  if  she  were  looking  at  something  among 
the  tree-tops. 

"What  must  you  think  of  me?"  she  ex- 
claimed, turning  suddenly  toward  me.  "What 


SANDPEEP  263 

must  you  think  of  me?  When  my  brother  told 
me  you  wanted  to  learn  to  play,  I  thought,  of 
course,  you  were  only  a  beginner,  and  I  knew  I 
could  teach  you  the  scales  and  easy  exercises. 
Oh,  what  must  you  think  of  me?"  she  said  again, 
and  she  looked  as  if  she  were  going  to  cry. 

"Never  mind,"  I  said  kindly.  "You  are  not 
to  blame  for  thinking  I  couldn't  play  anything. 
There!  don't  look  distressed.  I  don't  mind  it  in 
the  least  that  you  can't  play  anything  but  scales 
and  easy  exercises;  and  if  you  like,  I'll  teach 
you  what  I  know.  It  is  very  easy  for  a  person 
who  loves  music  as  I  do.  Why,"  I  went  on,  an 
idea  coming  into  my  head,  "when  I  was  a  little 
girl,  I  used  to  keep  a  waxed  thread  stretched 
across  the  window-sill  for  the  wind  to  play  on; 
and  once,  when  a  gentleman,  who  stopped 
at  our  house  one  stormy  night,  gave  me  some 
money,  I  spent  all  of  it  on  fiddlestrings  for  my 
wind-harp.  There  was  a  beautiful  young  lady 
with  the  gentleman;  she  gave  me  this  pretty 
ring." 

I  kept  my  eyes  on  her  face,  but  she  never 
gave  a  sign  that  she  knew  what  and  whom  I 
was  talking  about.  I  waited  a  minute,  think- 
ing she  would  certainly  tell  me  she  knew  them, 
and  remembered  the  ring;  but  she  didn't;  just 
stared  at  the  tree-tops  again,  as  if  there  wasn't 
another  person  but  herself  in  the  room. 

"I  must  see  what  has  become  of  Geoffrey,"  I 


264  SANDPEEP 

said  at  last  and  started  to  leave  the  room;  but 
she  caught  my  arm. 

"Wait,  don't  call  him  just  yet,"  she  said,  in 
quite  a  different  voice  from  the  snappy  way  she 
had  spoken  before.  "I  want  to  tell  you  some- 
thing. Oh,  Miss  Brenson!"  -taking  my  hand 
between  hers,  and  holding  it  tight  —  "please  be 
my  friend!  I  need  a  friend  more  than  any  other 
woman  in  this  wide  world.  Help  me  —  help 
me  —  for  the  love  of  the  Blessed  Virgin!" 

"How  can  I  help  you?  What  can  I  do?"  I 
asked,  greatly  surprised. 

She  looked  at  me  for  a  minute,  then  suddenly 
let  go  my  hand,  tore  the  veil  and  the  gray  wig 
from  her  head,  the  blue  specs  from  her  eyes,  and 
flung  them  all  on  my  bed.  If  I  had  not  seen  her 
without  them  before,  I  should  certainly  have  been 
very  much  surprised;  but  as  I  had,  I  could  only 
make  believe. 

"Why,  Mrs.  Makart!"  I  exclaimed,  "what  in 
the  world  do  you  wear  those  things  for,  when 
you  are  so  pretty  without  them  ?  They  make  you 
look  like  an  old  woman." 

"That  is  why  I  wear  them,  the  hateful  things! 
to  make  me  old  and  hideous,  so  that  no  one  will 
know  me.  But  I  am  tired  of  this  masquerading. 
I  must  be  my  true  self  to  you,  who  are  so  good 
and  kind.  You  will  be  my  friend,  I  know;  for 
you  have  warm  blood  in  your  body,  not  ice-water 
like  these  aristocrats,  who  have  no  feeling.  You 


SANDPEEP  265 

are  one  of  us  — "  "Indeed  I'm  not,"  I  said  to 
myself:  "I  am  no  dancing- woman.  I  don't  kick 
my  heels  high  as  my  head!"  -"You  belong  to 
the  poor,  the  honest  people,  who  will  rule  the 
world  some  day!  When  that  day  comes,  we 
shall  know  how  to  make  the  rich  pay  up  for  all 
the  terrible  things  they  have  made  us  suffer." 

I  was  going  to  say  that  the  rich  folks  had  never 
made  me,  or  anybody  I  was  acquainted  with, 
suffer,  when  she  began  again;  and  she  talked  so 
fast  I  could  hardly  understand  her. 

"  I  will  tell  you  everything  —  then  you  will  help 
me.  I  was  wrong  and  foolish  to  deceive  you,  to 
pretend  7  could  teach  you  anything  —  I,  who  am 
ignorant,  and  you,  who  know  so  much!  Why, 
I  can't  even  teach  you  my  own  language  prop- 
erly —  my  dear,  dear  French,  which  they  want 
my  boy  to  forget!  I  never  went  to  school;  I 
learned  to  read  only  after  I  was  thirteen  years 
old  —  while  I  was  in  the  convent  hospital  from 
a  fall,  which  everybody  believed  would  cripple 
me  for  life.  Then  the  good  sisters  taught  me  to 
read,  and  when  I  got  well  enough  to  leave  my 
cot,  they  let  me  amuse  myself  practicing  scales  on 
the  piano.  Oh,  dear  Miss  Brenson,  you  are  like 
the  good,  kind  sisters  in  the  convent,  and  I  can't 
say  how  ashamed  and  sorry  I  am  for  having 
deceived  you.  I  made  myself  an  ugly  old  woman 
so  I  might  be  near  my  boy  —  my  boy,  do  you 
understand  ?  He  is  mine  —  mine ! "  —  beating  her 


266  SANDPEEP 

clenched  right  hand  on  the  palm  of  her  left  — 
"and  I  am  his  mother  —  his  own  mother!  For 
two  long  terrible  nights  I  did  not  close  my  eyes, 
because  I  believed  they  had  taken  my  boy  away 
from  me  again.  Oh,  blessed  Mary!  how  I  suf- 
fered !  I  can't  endure  it  any  longer.  I  can't!  I 
can't!  Miss  Brenson"  —  she  caught  my  hand, 
and  crushed  it  against  her  breast  —  "don't  let 
them  take  my  precious  darling  away  from  me 
again  — " 

"But,"  I  interrupted,  and  I  didn't  pity  her  half 
as  much  as  I  would  if  Miss  Helmsley  hadn't 
told  me  about  the  dancing- woman,  "how  can  I 
hinder  it?" 

"You  can  speak  for  me  to  Miss  Warrington; 
she  trusts  you;  she  will  do  what  you  ask;  she 
will  give  me  a  place  in  her  household,  if  you  ask 
for  it.  I  must  be  near  my  child,  or  I  shall  go 
mad,  or  die!" 

"But  suppose  Geoffrey  should  go  to  Africa  with 
his  father?"  I  began,  but  she  interrupted  me. 

"He  shall  not  go  anywhere  again,  where  I 
cannot  go  with  him.  No  one  shall  take  my  little 
Gervase  away  from  me  again.  Yes,  Gervase, 
and  not  Geoffrey,  is  my  boy's  name;  he  is  called 
after  my  brother,  instead  of  Mr.  Warrington's 
cousin  —  the  beautiful  widow's  husband." 

"I  should  have  thought  you  would  have  called 
him  after  his  father,"  I  allowed. 

"  His  father  ?  "  —  looking  at  me  in  a  strange  way. 


SANDPEEP  267 

"Oh,"  —  her  face  clearing,  —  "I  do  not  like  his 
father's  name.  I  always  liked  'Geoffrey,'  and  I 
gave  the  name  to  my  boy  because  I  thought  it 
would  please  Mr.  Warrington.  But  you  have 
not  said  you  would  help  me.  Maybe  you  don't 
believe  I  am  the  boy's  mother?  I  am,  I  swear 
it  by  all  the  saints  in  heaven!  And  before  I 
will  let  him  be  taken  away  from  me  again,  I 
will—" 

She  stopped  suddenly  and  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands.  I  watched  her  cry  for  a  minute 
before  I  said:  •  "If  you  are  really  and  truly  the 
boy's  mother,  then  you  must  be  Mr.  Warring- 
ton's  wife?" 

She  took  her  hands  from  her  face  and  asked, 
almost  fiercely: 

"Didn't  you  hear  me  swear  that  I  am  the  boy's 
mother?" 

"Then  you  have  a  right  to  a  place  in  this 
house  —  your  husband's  house,"  I  said. 

"Yes  —  yes,  but  can't  you  understand?  Don't 
you  know  that  not  every  woman  lives  with  her 
husband?  Why,  if  Mr.  Warrington  were  to  find 
out  that  I  am  here,  he  would  take  the  boy  away, 
where  I  could  not  find  him  again,  perhaps.  I 
promised  —  oh,  dear  God,  forgive  me  for  that 
promise !  —  when  I  gave  him  up  that  I  would 
not  try  to  see  him  until  he  was  a  grown  man, 
when  he  would  have  forgotten  me!  But,  after 
he  was  gone,  I  found  that  I  might  as  well  try  to 


268  SANDPEEP 

live  with  my  heart  torn  out.  I  had  to  follow  him. 
I  had  to  break  my  promise,  or  go  mad!"  She 
shook  all  over. 

"You  ought  not  to  have  given  him  up,"  I 
allowed. 

"No,  and  I  would  not  have  done  it,  but  my 
brother  persuaded  me,  and  Mr.  Warrington  of- 
fered us  so  much  money,  enough  to  keep  us  in 
luxury  for  the  rest  of  our  days.  I  thought  I 
could  get  used  to  doing  without  my  baby,  but  it 
was  the  torture  of  hell!  Oh,  Miss  Brenson,  help 
me  —  get  me  a  place  here ;  I  will  do  anything  — 
I  must  be  near  my  boy." 

"Now  that  I  know  you  are  Geoffrey's  mother, 
and  Mr.  Warrington's  wife,"  I  answered,  "I 
don't  think  I  ought  to  ask  Miss  Warrington  to 
give  you  a  chance.  I  could  not  bear  to  deceive 
her—" 

"But  you  would  not  be  deceiving  her,"  she 
interrupted,  quickly.  "7  would  be  the  one,  and 
I  would  do  anything  —  anything,  to  be  near  my 
child.  Only  get  me  the  place,  and  no  one  shall 
ever  find  out  who  I  am." 

After  thinking  for  a  minute,  I  asked  her  if 
Malston  was  really  her  brother. 

"He  is  really  my  brother." 

"And  Andrew  —  is  he  your  brother,  too?" 

"He  and  Robley,  whose  real  name  is  Gervase, 
are  brothers,  of  course." 

"Do  you  know  that  Andrew  tried  to  run  away 


SANDPEEP  269 

with  Geoffrey,  before  you  came  to  live  at  the 
cottage?" 

"Yes,  I  know  it,  and  I  think  he  did  wrong; 
but  he  wanted  to  please  me.  I  was  dying  to 
see  my  boy,  and  Andrew  could  not  bear  to  see 
me  suffer.  He  would  have  brought  the  boy 
back." 

I  had  my  own  ideas  about  that,  but  I  did  not 
tell  her  what  they  were.  I  said:  "Did  he  tell  you 
that  he  pointed  a  pistol  at  me  when  I  hindered 
him  from  taking  Geoffrey?" 

"Yes,"  — a  faint  smile  showing  on  her  lips  — 
"and  he  told  me,  too,  that  you  snatched  it  out  of 
his  hand,  at  the  risk  of  being  killed!  Though  he 
wouldn't  hurt  a  fly  when  he  is  himself,  he  is  a 
perfect  demon  when  he  is  angry;  and  he  cer- 
tainly would  have  shot  you,  if  you  hadn't.  He  is 
glad  enough  now  that  you  did;  and  says  you  are 
the  very  bravest,  as  well  as  the  most  beautiful 
young  lady  he  ever  saw." 

"I'm  much  obliged  to  him,  I'm  sure,"  I  an- 
swered, flustered  by  the  compliment,  "and  you 
may  tell  him  I  am  as  glad  as  he  is  that  he  didn't 
shoot  me."  Then  I  added:  "I  believe  if  he  had 
come  to  the  Lodge  and  asked  Mr.  Warrington  to 
let  Geoffrey  go  to  see  you,  instead  of  trying  to 
run  away  with  him,  Mr.  Warrington  would  have 
consented  — " 

"I  don't!"  she  interrupted,  decidedly ;N" and 
you  wouldn't,  if  you  had  heard  how  Mr.  War- 


270  SANDPEEP 

rington  talked  when  we  made  the  agreement 
about  the  boy." 

"I  would  not  have  believed  that  Mr.  Warring- 
ton  could  be  so  cruel,"  I  allowed  after  a  second. 

"The  world  —  his  world,  wouldn't  call  what 
he  did  for  my  boy  'cruel,'  and  in  a  way  it  isn't; 
he  is  very  kind  to  give  his  money  to  the  dear 
child,  who  will  be  very,  very  rich,  when  Mr. 
Warrington  dies." 

"That  is  the  law,  and  not  Mr.  Warrington' s 
kindness,"  I  told  her.  "A  child  has  a  right  to 
what  belongs  to  its  father." 

"There  are  such  things  as  wills,  Miss  Bren- 
son,"  she  answered,  smiling.  "Mr.  Warrington 
can  will  everything  he  owns  to  anybody  he 
chooses;  besides,  even  if  he  should  not  want  to 
will  it  away  from  Geoffrey,  the  dear  child  might 
starve  long  before  the  law  would  give  him  what 
you  say  will  be  his  by  right.  Mr.  Warrington  is 
strong  and  healthy,  and  may  live  many  years  — 
if  nothing  happens!" 

"I  hope  and  pray  nothing  may  happen  to 
him,"  I  said  heartily. 

"I  hope  so,  too,"  she  agreed,  then  went  on  to 
say:  "If  I  had  it  to  do  over  again,  I  would 
starve  ten  times  over  rather  than  give  up  my 
boy  on  the  same  terms!  No,  not  for  all  the 
money  in  the  world  would  I  agree  to  live  where 
I  could  not  see  him  every  day." 

"If  I  were  you,"  I  said  to  her,  "I  should  go 


SANDPEEP  271 

to  Mr.  Warrington  —  without  the  wig  and  blue 
specs  —  and  tell  him  you  rue  your  bargain,  and 
want  your  child  back." 

"Ah,  Miss  Brenson,  you  are  indeed  ignorant  of 
the  ways  of  the  world!  Don't  you  know  that  the 
law  binds  one  to  keep  one's  word?  And  because 
I  have  bound  myself,  I  shall  go  mad,  or  die,  if 
you  refuse  to  help  me.  My  boy  needs  me;  no 
one  understands  him,  no  one  knows  how  to  man- 
age him,  as  I  do.  You  call  him  dull,  stupid; 
but  to  me  he  is  the  brightest,  sweetest,  dearest 
child  in  this  whole  wide  world!  Oh,  dear  Miss 
BrensOn!  —  see,  I  kneel  to  you  as  to  the  Blessed 
Virgin." 

Before  I  could  hinder  her,  she  was  on  her 
knees  at  my  feet,  and  holding  up  her  clasped 
hands,  as  if  she  were  praying  to  me!  It  was 
wicked ! 

"Good  gracious!"  I  exclaimed,  hardly  knowing 
what  to  do,  I  was  so  put  out  with  her.  "Get 
up,  for  goodness'  sake!  somebody  might  come  in! 
I'll  do  what  I  can  —  I  will  speak  to  Miss  War- 
rington—  only  get  up!" 

"But  you  will  not  let  her  suspect  who  I  am?" 
she  said,  getting  up.  "Remember  I  have  trusted 
you  with  my  secret  —  with  my  life !  Yes,  my 
life  is  in  your  hands  now,"  she  repeated  solemnly, 
"and  yours,  too,  would  be  in  danger,  if  Andrew 
should  find  out  that  I  had  told  you  our  secret. 
He  would  kill  us  both,  he  is  so  terrible  when  he 


272  SANDPEEP 

is  angry!  But  you  will  not  betray  me,  I  know! 
and  you  need  not  be  afraid  that  anyone  will  find 
out  who  I  am.  Not  even  my  child  shall  know 
that  I  an  his  mother.  No  one  shall  ever  sus- 
pect that  I  am  not  a  gray-haired,  half -blind  old 
woman.  The  only  —  there  comes  the  boy — " 
she  interrupted  herself  to  say,  and  she  caught  up 
the  wig  and  specs.  "He  must  not  see  me  with- 
out these  hateful  things,  for  he  would  know  his 
petite  maman  in  a  minute,  though  you  have  tried 
to  make  him  forget  her!" 

She  had  hardly  got  them  on,  when  Geoffrey 
—  I  shall  keep  on  calling  him  that,  and  his 
mother  Mrs.  Makart,  even  to  my  secret-keeping 
book  —  dashed  into  the  room,  swinging  the 
"mermaid"  picture  in  his  hand. 

"See!  See!"  he  exclaimed.  "See  what  I  find 
in  hims  room  —  a  little  girl,  like  me!" 

I  took  it  from  him,  and  held  it  toward  Mrs. 
Makart.  "  Isn't  it  pretty  ?  "  I  asked,  and  I  watched 
her  closely  for  a  sign  that  she  recognized  the  little 
Sandpeep.  'Doesn't  it  look  exactly  like  a  really 
little  girl,  standing  in  really  water?" 

"Yes;  and  her  hair  and  eyes  are  exactly  like 
yours;  indeed,  she  looks  like  you.  I  have  never 
seen  hair  the  color  of  yours,  only  on  the  stage, 
Miss  Brenson,  and  then  it  wasn't  natural.  Ac- 
tresses, you  know,  often  wear  false  hair."  She 
smiled,  and  laid  her  finger  against  the  strip  of 
gray  wig  above  her  forehead. 


SANDPEEP  273 

I  don't  think  the  actresses  on  the  stage  can 
"act"  any  better  than  she  can.  To  look  at  her, 
nobody  would  have  imagined  that  she  had  ever 
laid  eyes  on  the  little  Sandpeep  before;  there 
wasn't  the  least  sign  that  she  remembered. 

"  Don't  the  sky,  and  the  ocean,  and  those  gulls 
flying  over  the  waves,  look  natural?"  I  tried 
again. 

"Yes,  though  I  don't  know  much  about  the 
seashore.  I  have  crossed  the  ocean,  but  I  never 
looked  at  it  from  the  shore  until  I  came  here.  I 
should  like  this  picture  better  if  the  pretty  little 
girl  were  standing  among  flowers  and  grass.  I 
don't  like  the  sea." 

No  use  fishing  in  shallow  water!  I  just 
couldn't  get  a  bite!  I  asked  her  to  excuse  me  a 
minute,  and  took  the  picture  down  to  Mr.  War- 
rington's  room.  When  I  came  back,  Geoffrey 
was  sitting  on  his  mother's  lap,  his  arms  around 
her  neck,  his  head  on  her  breast,  and  she  was 
singing  to  him,  and  rocking  —  as  if  he  were 
a  baby,  and  she  was  trying  to  sing  him  to 
sleep. 

"You  must  not  make  fun  of  him,"  she  said, 
when  she  saw  me  smile.  "Though  he  is  such  a 
big  boy,  he  is  only  a  baby,  after  all!" 

She  kissed  him,  then  put  him  down,  saying: 

"I  must  go  back  to  the  cottage  now.  Andrew 
will  be  home  and  wonder  what  has  become  of 
me.  Dear  Miss  Brenson,  I  can't  tell  you  how 


274  SANDPEEP 

much  better  I  feel,  now  that  I  know  you  will  help 
me,  and  that  I  need  not  deceive  you  any  more. 
You  will  come  to  see  me  as  usual,  even  if  I  can't 
teach  you  anything,  won't  you?" 

"Yes,  if  nothing  hinders,"  I  answered. 

"Well,  the  hope  of  seeing  you  will  help  me  to 
wait  with  patience." 

Geoffrey  and  I  went  down  to  the  door  with 
her.  He  chose  to  take  her  hand,  instead  of  mine, 
which  pleased  her  very  much. 

"The  child-heart  knows!"  she  whispered. 

At  the  door  she  asked  if  there  wasn't  a  nearer 
way  to  the  cottage  than  by  the  avenue  and  the 
lane. 

"There's  an  old  path  through  the  Lodge 
grounds,  but  unless  you  know  it,  you  wouldn't 
be  likely  to  find  it.  Besides,  there's  a  high  fence 
to  climb." 

"I  am  pretty  good  at  climbing,"  she  allowed, 
adding  with  a  smile:  "I  believe  I  could  climb 
to  the  balcony  over  that  window." 

"I  dare  say  you  could,  if  you  are  used  to 
climbing,"  I  answered.  "I  saw  one  of  the 
maids  jump  down  from  it  once,  and  she  didn't 
hurt  herself,  either.  But  I  guess  you'd  better 
go  by  the  avenue  and  the  lane.  Only  we  long- 
shore folks  are  good  at  finding  hidden  paths." 

"Have  you  lived  around  here  long?" 

"All  my  life;  so  you  may  well  think  me  igno- 
rant of  the  other  end  of  the  world!  Wouldn't 


SANDPEEP  275 

you  like  to  go  home  with  me  some  day,  and  see 
how  we  Cove  folks  live?" 

"Why,  yes;  do  you  live  far  from  here?" 

"Only  a  few  miles;  I  will  carry  you  to  the 
Cove  in  Dr.  Parke's  sloop." 

"Do  you  know  how  to  manage  a  boat?" 

"Yes,  indeed;  I  was  brought  up  to  know  all 
about  boats.  You  needn't  be  afraid  to  trust  me." 

"I  am  not  afraid  to  trust  you  —  as  I  think  I 
have  proved  to  you,"  she  answered,  looking  at 
me  in  a  way  I  understood. 

"Very  well,  then  we  will  go  to  see  my  aunt 
to-morrow,  if  there's  a  good  sailing  breeze." 

"And  take  the  boy  with  us?"  she  asked. 

"I  don't  believe  Mr.  Warrington  will  let  him 
go.  He  is  so  very  particular  about  him,"  I 
answered. 

"For  that,  I  thank  him  from  my  heart!"  she 
said,  shaking  my  hand,  and  giving  it  a  good 
squeeze. 

I  stood  in  the  doorway,  looking  after  her  and 
thinking.  Maybe  she  has  really  forgotten,  after 
all!  There's  so  much  to  see  and  hear  out  in 
the  other  world,  that  the  folks  who  live  there 
are  not  likely  to  store  away  in  their  mind-closets 
every  little  thing  that  happens,  as  we  do  here.  I 
have  had  so  little  to  store  away,  that  nothing 
has  had  to  be  crowded  into  the  forget-corner. 
I  can  always  find  just  what  I  want,  without 
rummaging  for  it! 


CHAPTER   XXI 

MR.  WARRINGTON  was  busy  writing  let- 
ters in  the  library,  the  morning  after 
Mrs.  Makart  told  me  her  secret;  and 
when  I  asked  if  I  might  disturb  him  for  a  min- 
ute, he  laid  his  pen  on  the  rack,  though  it  was 
almost  time  to  send  the  mail  to  the  Headlands, 
leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  said  very  pleasantly: 

" Certainly;   what  have  you  to  tell  me?" 

"Reuben  Wasgott  would  like  to  know  if  you 
want  him  to-day." 

"Who  is  Reuben  Wasgott?" 

"He  is  the  gentleman  who  has  taken  Zemro 
Haskell's  place  to  sail  the  sloop  for  you." 

"Ah,  true;  I  had  forgotten  the  gentleman's 
name.  No  I  shall  not  want  him  to-day."  He 
leaned  forward,  took  up  the  pen  and  dipped  it 
into  the  ink,  but  before  he  began  to  write,  I 
asked  if  I  might  have  the  loan  of  the  sloop  for 
a  few  hours. 

"Certainly;  didn't  Dr.  Parke  leave  the  boat 
in  your  care?" 

"I  am  to  take  charge  of  her  after  you  have  all 
gone  away  for  good,  sir;  until  then  I  have  no 
right  to  use  her  without  your  permission." 

"You  are  very  punctilious!"  he  allowed,  smiling 

276 


SANDPEEP  277 

at  me.    "As  I  don't  intend  to  sail  to-day,  Wasgott 
may  take  his  orders  from  you." 

"But  I  don't  want  him  to  sail  the  sloop  for  me, 
sir,"  I  objected. 

"I  think  you  had  better  let  him  do  so." 

He  began  to  write  as  if  the  matter  was  settled, 
but  I  made  bold  to  say: 

"If  I  let  Reuben  sail  the  sloop,  please  may  I 
take  Geoffrey  along  with  me?  I  will  take  good 
care  of  him,  sir." 

"I  don't  doubt  that,"  he  answered,  without 
looking  up;  "but  I  doubt  if  the  lad  will  consent 
to  go  with  you,  he  gets  so  seasick  Of  course 
you  may  take  him  —  if  he  will  go ! " 

I  thanked  him,  and  came  up  to  the  school- 
room, where  Geoffrey  was  waiting  for  me.  After 
he  had  said  his  lesson  —  real  well  for  him  —  I 
told  him  we  were  going  out  in  the  "wing-boat," 
as  he  calls  the  sloop. 

"No  —  no;  I  will  not  go  in  the  wing-boat,"  he 
said,  decidedly.  "Hims  hurts  me  here!"  laying 
one  hand  against  his  stomach,  and  the  other 
against  his  forehead.  "I  will  go  in  the  push- 
boat;  I  will  push  him,  so,"  moving  his  arms  as 
if  he  were  rowing.  Nothing  I  could  say  would 
make  him  change  his  mind,  and  I  was  thinking 
I  should  have  to  give  up  going  to  the  Cove,  when 
Janet  came  to  dress  him  for  a  drive  with  his 
aunts.  I  was  sorry  on  his  mother's  account,  and 
half  expected,  when  I  went  down  to  the  shore, 


278  SANDPEEP 

where  I  had  sent  her  word  by  Malston  to  meet 
me,  that  she  would  refuse  to  go,  too.  But, 
though  she  looked  disappointed  when  I  told  her, 
she  let  me  help  her  into  the  dory  without  a  word. 
I  don't  believe  she  and  Reuben  had  spoken  to 
each  other  while  they  were  waiting  for  me;  for 
when  I  joined  them,  she  was  sitting  on  a  drift- 
log,  up  among  the  alders,  and  he  was  standing 
close  to  the  water,  heaving  little  rocks  into  it.  I 
guess  if  he  could  have  known  what  a  handsome 
young  lady  was  hidden  under  the  gray  wig  and 
blue  specs,  there  would  be  considerably  more 
rocks  on  the  shore  than  there  are  now!  Reuben 
isn't  one  of  the  bashful  kind. 

The  breeze  was  splendid  for  sailing,  and  the 
Keren  skimmed  over  the  water  like  a  duck.  That 
isn't  saying  much  for  the  good  old  sloop,  for 
she  can  go  a  good  deal  faster  than  a  duck  can 
swim. 

"Isn't  this  fine?"  I  said. 

"Very,  but  I  think  I  should  be  sick  if  the 
water  were  rougher.  I  am  standing  it  better 
than  I  expected.  I  was  never  in  a  sailboat 
before." 

"You  were  never  in  a  sailboat  before?"  I 
repeated,  and  looked  at  her  in  a  way  that  made 
her  say  quickly: 

"I  mean  a  small  boat  like  this.  Of  course,  I 
have  been  in  large  steamships  a  number  of 
times." 


SANDPEEP  279 

"But,"  I  insisted,  "try  to  remember;  haven't 
you  been  in  this  —  in  a  boat  like  this  —  before  ? 
—  long  ago,  maybe?" 

"No,"  she  answered,  very  positively,  "I  have 
never  been  in  a  boat  like  this  before." 

I  was  so  vexed  with  her  I  could  have  shaken 
her,  and  I  did  not  speak  again  until  we  sailed 
into  Bunker's  Cove;  then  I  asked  her  how  she 
liked  that  part  of  the  shore. 

"Better  than  where  it  is  so  rocky,  like  the 
Lodge  property,"  she  answered.  "Is  this  where 
you  live?" 

I  told  her  it  was. 

"It  looks  so  peaceful  and  quiet  here,"  she 
allowed,  "as  if  nothing  sinful  and  wicked  ever 
happened.  I  understand  now  why  you  are  so 
good  and  innocent." 

"I  think  Bunker's  Cove  a  very  sightly  place, 
too,"  I  said,  "but  you  make  a  mistake  when  you 
call  me  '  good ' ;  our  preacher  often  tells  me  I  am 
very  sinful." 

"You  sinful?  You,  who  have  never  deceived 
anyone  —  never  wished  harm  to  anyone  ?  What 
would  he  say  about  me,  I  wonder?  But,"  —  she 
lowered  her  voice,  for  which  there  was  no  need, 
for  Reuben  was  humming  a  hymn  tune,  and 
beating  time  with  the  end  of  the  painter  on  the 
thwart  —  "I  want  you  to  believe  that  I  don't 
wish  harm  to  anyone  now,  not  since  you  prom- 
ised to  help  me.  I  am  going  to  do  everything  I 


28o  SANDPEEP 

can  to  keep  harm  from  coming  to  —  anyone. 
You  look  puzzled.  You  must  not  ask  me  to 
explain;  I  can't  —  I  dare  not.  If  you  could 
exchange  places  with  me  for  only  a  minute,  you 
would  understand  and  pity  me — "  she  stopped 
suddenly  and  flung  the  end  of  the  thick  veil 
over  her  face,  but  not  before  I  had  seen  two 
big  tears  roll  from  under  the  blue  specs. 

"If  I  could  change  places  with  you  for  good 
and  all,  I  know  what  I  should  do,"  I  said. 

"What  would  you  do?"  came  from  behind  the 
veil. 

"I  should  go  straight  to  Mr.  Warrington,  and 
ask  him  to  make  up,  be  good  friends  again,  you 
know!  He  certainly  must  have  liked  you  once 
—  well  enough  to  marry  you ;  and  he  might 
grow  to  like  you  again,  if  you  would  do  what  you 
could  to  make  him  happy,  and  make  him  stop 
wanting  to  get  a  divorce  — " 

"Does  he  think  of  getting  a  divorce?"  she 
interrupted. 

"I  don't  know,"  I  answered,  "but  he  will  have 
to  get  one  before  he  can  marry  again.  No  one 
would  blame  him,  I'm  sure,  for  he  is  still  quite  a 
young  man,  and  though  he  isn't  what  I  call 
handsome,  I  don't  believe  he'd  have  any  trouble 
getting  a  wife  to  suit  him.  Just  think,"  I  went 
on,  as  she  made  no  reply,  "how  nice  it  would 
be  for  your  little  son.  Take  my  advice,  Mrs. 
Makart;  call  yourself  by  your  right  name,  and 


SANDPEEP  281 

ask  Mr.  Warrington  to  make  up,  and  don't  put 
it  off  too  long,  either!" 

1  'Then  you  do  really  believe  he  will  get  a  di- 
vorce?" she  said  again;  but  instead  of  answering 
her  question,  I  asked  one. 

"Hasn't  your  brother  told  you  what  the  serv- 
ants at  the  Lodge  say  about  Mr.  Warrington  and 
his  cousin's  beautiful  widow?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"They  think  he  is  a  widower;  and,  knowing 
that  he  was  very  much  in  love  with  her  before 
she  married  his  cousin,  they  say  he  is  going  to 
make  her  Geoffrey's  stepmother,  which  he  can 
do,  you  know,  if  he  gets  a  divorce  — " 

"Hard-a-lee!" 

Reuben's  warning  made  us  bend  forward  sud- 
denly to  let  the  boom  swing  over  our  heads; 
and  as  we  were  near  the  sloop's  anchorage, 
nothing  more  was  said  about  the  divorce.  But 
I  believe  I  gave  Mrs.  Makart  something  to 
think  over. 

"This  is  truly  a  beautiful  spot!"  she  re- 
marked, when  we  stopped  on  the  shore  to  look 
around.  "How  green  the  grass  is!  —  just  like 
Ireland!  Is  that  your  home?"  pointing  toward 
Zemro's  house. 

"No;  that  is  where  I  live,"  showing  her  ours; 
"and  that  is  my  aunt  in  the  garden." 

"Your  father  and  mother  live  there,  too,  of 
course?" 


282  SANDPEEP 

"They  are  in  the  better  land,"  I  answered 
sadly,  as  was  proper.  "I  have  no  one  but  aunt." 

Aunt  met  us  at  the  gate,  surprised  and  pleased. 

"Why,  Sandpeep!"  she  exclaimed,  and  peered 
at  Mrs.  Makart  from  under  the  hand  shading 
her  eyes.  "What  hes  fetched  you  home  to-day? 
Hain't  sick,  be  you?" 

"No;  I  have  brought  a  lady  to  call,"  I  an- 
swered, and  introduced  her  and  Mrs.  Makart. 

Aunt  bowed  — •  nobody  could  make  her  be- 
lieve bowing  wasn't  manners  any  more!  —  and 
said:  "Pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
ma'am.  Be  you  stoppin'  to  neighbor  Warrin'- 
ton's,  too?" 

"Mrs.  Makart,"  I  explained,  "lives  in  the 
cottage  in  the  woods,  near  the  Lodge.  She  is 
Mr.  Malston's  sister." 

"Jes'  so,  'n'  a  pleasant-spoken  gentleman  he 
is,  ma'am.  Be  your  eyes  sore?"  she  asked  then, 
sympathetically. 

"They  are  weak,"  Mrs.  Makart  answered,  and 
I  thought  better  of  her  when  I  saw  that  her 
cheeks  got  pink  at  the  story-telling. 

"Eyebright  tea  is  good  fur  sore  eyes,"  aunt 
allowed.  "My  gran'ma'am  allus  used  it  fur 
her'n;  though  Peleg  —  he  was  my  brother  'n' 
Sandpeep' s  father  —  said  the  gold  earrings  he 
wore  helped  his'n  more  'n  the  eyebright  tea. 
You  might  try  both,  ma'am,  'n'  ef  one  won't 
help  you,  t'other  might." 


SANDPEEP  283 

Mrs.  Makart  thanked  her,  and  after  aunt  had 
asked  me  if  Reuben  wasn't  coming  up  to  the 
house,  and  I  had  told  her  he  had  gone  home, 
because  I  wanted  to  sail  the  sloop  back  to  the 
Lodge  myself,  we  went  into  the  kitchen,  and  had 
a  little  luncheon  of  fresh  cookies  and  milk.  Aunt 
kept  looking  at  Mrs.  Makart  all  the  time  we  were 
eating,  and  when  we  got  up  to  go,  she  said: 

"  'Pears  'sef  I  hed  seen  you  afore,  too,  ma'am. 
Mebbe  you  hev  been  'round  here  afore,  too,  like 
neighbor  Warrin'ton?" 

"No,  I  have  never  been  here  before."  This 
time  Mrs.  Makart's  cheeks  didn't  get  pink! 
"But  I  hope  you  will  let  me  come  to  see  you 
again,  some  time?" 

Aunt  told  her  she  would  be  pleased;  then,  as  I 
was  afraid  the  wind  might  die  out,  we  hurried 
down  to  the  shore.  I  didn't  want  to  go  back  to 
the  Lodge  on  an  "ash  breeze." 

After  we  had  sailed  some  distance,  Mrs. 
Makart  said:  "I  believe  you  know  how  to  man- 
age this  boat  as  well  as  that  young  man.  Did  it 
take  you  long  to  learn?" 

"I  can't  remember  when  I  didn't  know  all 
about  the  sloop,"  I. answered,  smiling.  "Manag- 
ing her  comes  as  natural  as  washing  dishes,  and  I 
like  it  lots  better!  I  used  to  go  fishing  with  my 
father  when  I  wasn't  much  more  than  a  baby." 

"You  are  to  be  pitied  for  having  no  mother," 
she  allowed,  after  a  minute. 


284  SANDPEEP 

"I  don't  agree  with  you,"  I  answered.  " Aunt 
is  the  same  to  me  as  a  mother  — " 

"Oh,  no,  Miss  Brenson,"  she  interrupted; 
"no  aunt  —  no  one  —  can  be  the  same  as  a 
mother." 

"Well,"  after  I  had  shifted  the  boom,  "as  I 
never  knew  my  mother,  aunt  seems  to  me  all 
that  a  mother  could  be." 

Mrs.  Makart  shook  her  head,  but  I  didn't 
care  to  "argufy."  After  a  few  minutes  she  said 
suddenly,  as  if  she  had  been  turning  it  over  in 
her  mind: 

"If  Mr.  Warrington  should  get  a  divorce  and 
marry  the  beautiful  widow,  and  there  should  be 
children  born  to  them,  my  boy  would  have  to 
share  the  property  with  them,  I  suppose?" 

"Why,  of  course!  That  would  be  only  right," 
I  answered. 

"And  there  might  be  several  children"  —  she 
said  it  more  as  if  she  was  talking  to  herself  than 
to  me  —  "No,"  —  after  thinking  a  minute  — 
"he  must  not  be  allowed  to  get  the  divorce.  I 
have  risked  too  much  to  have  my  boy  lose  the 
fortune." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  are  going  to  hinder  it,"  I 
said.  "You  had  better  take  my  advice,  and 
make  up  with  him,  and  try  to  make  him  happy 
yourself,  instead  of  leaving  it  for  a  second  wife 
to  do." 

"You  seem  very  anxious  to  have  Mr.  Warring- 


SANDPEEP  285 

ton  happy,"  she  said,  looking  at  me  in  a  way 
I  did  not  understand;  "you  almost  make  me 
believe  you  care  a  good  deal  about  him." 

"And  so  I  do,"  I  answered  heartily.  "I  like 
him  very  much.  He  is  very  kind  to  me." 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  his  past  life?" 
she  asked,  after  she  had  thought  for  several 
minutes. 

"Not  much,"  I  answered  carelessly,  though  I 
kept  a  close  watch  on  her  out  of  the  corner  of 
my  eye.  "I  saw  him  only  once,  before  he  came 
here  this  summer.  It  was  a  long,  long  time  ago. 
Don't  you  remember  I  told  you  yesterday  about 
a  gentleman  who  gave  me  some  money,  and  that 
I  had  bought  fiddlestrings  with  it  for  my  wind- 
harp  ?  Well,  Mr.  Warrington  was  the  gentleman. 
He,  and  the  young  lady  who  gave  me  this  ring, 
stopped  at  our  house  all  night,  because  it  stormed 
too  bad  for  them  to  go  to  the  Headlands;  and 
the  next  morning  father  carried  them  there  in 
this  very  sloop." 

Maybe  if  more  of  her  face  had  been  uncovered, 
I  might  have  seen  some  sign  that  she  knew  what 
I  was  talking  about;  but  I  couldn't  tell  whether 
she  knew  or  not,  and  her  voice  didn't  tell  me, 
either,  when  she  asked  how  long  ago  it  was 
that  Mr.  Warrington  and  the  young  lady  had 
been  at  our  house. 

"About  a  dozen  years,  I  should  think,"  I 
answered,  then  added:  "Maybe  you  know  who 


286  SANDPEEP 

the  young  lady  was?  You  were  good  friends 
with  Mr.  Warrington  then." 

"No,  I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  and  no  red 
came  into  her  cheeks  at  this  big  story.  "He  had 
a  great  many  friends  I  was  not  acquainted  with." 

She  wasn't  looking  at  me,  so  I  had  a  good 
chance  to  watch  her  face,  when  I  said:  "Tell 
me  about  your  wedding.  You  had  a  lot  of 
flowers,  and  good  things  to  eat,  I  dare  say?" 

"No,  there  were  no  flowers,  no  feast — " 

"What?"  I  interrupted,  "not  even  a  single 
little  bunch  of  posies  for  good  luck?" 

"Oh,  yes;  there  were  some  artificial  flowers 
on  the  altar  — " 

"The  altar?"  I  interrupted  a  second  time, 
greatly  puzzled.  I  had  never  heard  that  'Squire 
Willetts  used  an  altar  with  artificial  flowers  on  it, 
when  he  married  folks. 

"Yes,  the  altar  in  the  church,  of  course.  Why 
do  you  look  at  me  in  that  strange  way?"  She 
had  turned  her  blue  specs  suddenly  toward  me, 
and  must  have  seen  what  I  thought  of  her  latest 
whopper. 

"Please  excuse  me,"  I  said,  greatly  vexed  with 
myself.  Not  for  the  world  would  I  have  her  sus- 
pect me.  I  want  her  to  keep  on  thinking  me 
stupid  and  innocent  until  Dr.  Parke  gets  back. 
"I  was  thinking  of  something  else;  I  know  it 
was  very  rude." 

"Dear  Miss  Brenson,  you  could  not  be  rude 


SANDPEEP  287 

if  you  tried,"  she  said,  and  laid  her  hand  on 
mine  for  a  second.  "You  are  too  kind-hearted. 
That  is  why  I  trust  you  and  ask  you  to  help 
me.  When  will  you  speak  for  me  to  Miss 
Warrington?" 

I  smiled  in  a  joking  way:  "I  thought  I  would 
try  first  to  coax  you  to  make  up  with  your 
husband  - 

"That  is  impossible  —  quite  impossible,"  she 
interrupted  decidedly.  "Even  if  I  were  willing 
to  'make  up,'  as  you  call  it,  I  know  Mr.  War- 
rington would  refuse;  he  dislikes  me  too  much 
now.  No,  in  his  house  I  can  be  only  governess 
to  my  boy,  or  a  servant." 

"All  right,"  I  said,  "if  you  will  not  take  my 
advice",  I  will  ask  Miss  Warrington  to  give  you  a 
chance." 

She  thanked  me  and  leaned  forward  to  kiss  my 
hand  resting  on  the  tiller.  We  went  ashore  at 
the  Lodge  soon  afterward.  Mr.  Warrington  was 
smoking  a  cigar  in  front  of  the  house.  "Is  that 
your  aunt,  Miss  Brenson?"  he  asked,  when  I  was 
going  toward  the  side  entrance. 

I  guess  if  he  knew  how  lame  aunt's  "rheuma- 
tiz  in  her  j'ints"  makes  her,  he  would  not  have 
asked  if  the  woman  going  down  the  avenue  like 
a  ship  in  full  sail  before  half  a  gale  of  wind, 
were  she. 

"No,  sir;  it  is  Malston's  sister.  She  was  out 
in  the  sloop  with  me,"  I  answered,  wondering 


288  SANDPEEP 

what  he  would  have  done  if  I  had  told  him  that 
it  was  his  wife. 

"Did  the  skipper  come  ashore  with  you?"  he 
asked  as  I  was  moving  away. 

"Reuben  didn't  come  back  with  me,  sir." 

"I  don't  think  it  is  quite  safe  for  you  to  sail 
the  Keren  without  some  one  to  assist  you,"  he  al- 
lowed ;  "  suppose  a  sudden  squall  should  come  up  ?  " 

"I  guess  I  should  know  what  to  do,  sir,"  I 
answered,  and  smiled.  "You  need  not  be  afraid 
anything  will  happen  to  the  sloop,  when  — 

"—the  sloop!"  It  would  not  take  a  "Bible- 
anarian, "  as  aunt  says,  to  know  that  the  word 
Mr.  Warrington  used  before  "the  sloop,"  was 
a  swear  word.  "I  shouldn't  care  if  she  went 
to  the  bottom!  and  I  don't  believe  Dr.  *Parke 
would,  either.  But  we  should  care,  very  much, 
if  Geoffrey's  governess  went  down  with  her." 

He  said  that  so  kindly,  that  I  made  bold 
to  answer  jokingly:  "If  she  should  go  down 
with  the  sloop,  sir,  you  could  get  the  ugly  old 
governess." 

He  laughed  heartily,  and  I  ran  into  the  house, 
saying  to  myself:  "Oh,  what  a  very,  very  fool- 
ish woman  you  are,  Mrs.  Makart!"  The  better 
acquainted  I  get  with  Mr.  Warrington,  the  better 
I  like  him.  If  Zemro  were  like  him  —  I  can  tell 
this  to  my  dear  book  —  and  aunt  were  to  come 
sparking  me  for  him,  it  wouldn't  be  for  nothing, 
that's  all! 


CHAPTER  XXII 

GEOFFREY  and  his  aunts  had  not  come 
back,  and  were  not  expected  until  nearly 
dinner-time,  Janet  told  me,  so  I  thought 
I  would  go  to  the  cottage  for  my  French  lesson- 
book,  instead  of  practicing  on  the  piano,  which 
I  was  afraid  might  annoy  Mr.  Warrington. 

I  went  by  the  old  path  across  the  grounds,  the 
one  I  told  Mrs.  Makart  about,  thinking  to  get  to 
the  cottage  and  away  again  before  she  could 
come  by  the  lane.  To  climb  the  high  fence  was 
no  great  task,  though  a  nail  tore  a  three-cornered 
hole  in  my  skirt  which  will  take  hours  to  darn, 
and  I  was  only  a  little  way  from  the  cottage 
when  I  caught  sight  of  Andrew  through  the 
bushes.  He  was  sitting  on  a  rock  at  the  side  of 
the  lane,  whittling  like  any  Cove  man. 

I  did  not  want  him  to  see  me,  for  I  must  say  I 
am  scared  of  him,  and  was  wondering  how  I 
could  get  to  the  house  without  attracting  his 
attention,  when  Mrs.  Makart  came  walking  up 
the  lane.  I  made  up  my  mind  I  would  wait 
until  she  and  Andrew  had  gone  into  the  house; 
then  I  would  follow,  and  get  my  book. 

"Well,  petite,"  Andrew  said  to  her,  "you  were 
gone  a  long  time." 

289 


2QO  SANDPEEP 

"Yes,  but  I  could  not  come  back  any  sooner," 
she  answered,  and  instead  of  going  into  the 
house,  she  sat  down  on  the  rock  beside  him. 

Though  I  was  almost  afraid  to  draw  my 
breath,  I  was  so  near  to  them,  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  "eavesdrop"  like  Miss  Helmsley.  I 
don't  think  it  was  mean  to  listen,  for  it  is 
only  by  finding  out  what  the  deceitful  creatures 
mean  to  do,  that  I  can  help  Mr.  Warrington; 
and  I  would  do  anything  to  help  him! 

"Did  you  enjoy  your  sail  with  the  governess,  ma 
petite?"  Andrew  asked,  and  pinched  her  cheek. 

She  hunched  her  shoulders  and  took  off  her 
specs  before  she  answered:  "No,  the  boy  did 
not  go  with  us;  went  to  drive  with  his  aunts!" 

Why  they  both  laughed  when  she  said  that,  I 
don't  know,  I'm  sure. 

"Did  the  wench  say  anything  about  getting  a 
place  for  you?"  he  asked,  meaning  me  by  "the 
wench." 

"She  hasn't  spoken  to  Miss  Warrington  yet, 
but  will  soon.  Do  you  know  what  she  advises 
me  to  do?"  She  put  her  arm  around  his  neck 
and  leaned  forward  to  look  up  into  his  face. 

"Haven't  an  idea,"  he  answered,  and  put  both 
his  arms  around  her. 

"Make  up  my  quarrel  with  Warrington  — 
take  my  rightful  name  and  place  in  his  house, 
instead  of  trying  to  get  into  it  as  a  governess, 
or  a  servant!" 


SANDPEEP  291 

I  never  heard  anyone  laugh  so  loud  and  so 
long  as  they  did.  Then  Andrew  asked: 

"What  answer  did  you  give  the  peace-maker?" 

"Said  it  was  quite  impossible,  that  Warring- 
ton  disliked  me  too  much.  Andrew,"  -  she  was 
very  serious  all  at  once;  she  pronounces  An- 
drew more  as  if  it  was  spelled  Andray,  —  "  War- 
rington  must  not  be  allowed  to  begin  divorce 
proceedings.  Think  of  what  that  would  mean 
for  us  —  for  my  boy!" 

"Aha!"  Andrew  exclaimed,  "at  last  you  look 
at  the  matter  as  I  do!  I  knew  you  would,  as 
soon  as  you  could  understand  that  the  boy  was 
in  danger  of  losing  the  cash!" 

"But  is  there  no  other  way  to  hinder  such  a 
danger  than  the  one  you  propose?" 

"None  so  sure,  petite.  Without  the  document, 
that  I  tried  my  best  to  find  that  night,  we  could 
not  even  prove  a  marriage.  I'll  warrant  you,  if  I 
had  Gerry's  chances,  I'd  know  how  to  improve 
them!  I'd  find  that  certificate  if  I  had  to  throt- 
tle the  whole  gang!  Only  Warrington,  and  the 
person  who  performed  the  ceremony,  know  just 
when,  and  where,  it  took  place  —  and,  of  course, 
the  witnesses,  if  there  were  any.  We  might 
swear  ourselves  black  in  the  face,  we  couldn't 
prove  anything  without  that  paper.  These  law- 
yers are  foxes  for  ferreting  after  secrets,  and 
Warrington' s  purse  is  long  enough  to  keep  them 
on  the  chase  until  they  have  found  what  he 


292  SANDPEEP 

wants.  No,  my  dear  Lina,  there  is  no  other 
way  so  sure;  'dead  men  tell  no  tales'!" 

"I  can't  bear  to  think  of  it,"  she  said  slowly, 
"for  he  has  been  very  kind  to  me  — " 

"Damnably  kind,  hasn't  he?"  —  I  don't  be- 
lieve writing  swear  words  that  other  people  have 
said  is  sinful  —  "Damnably  kind,  indeed!  Forced 
you  to  agree  not  to  lay  eyes  on  your  boy  for  fif- 
teen years — " 

"Only  twelve,"  she  interrupted. 

"Only  twelve!  and  you  nearly  died  for  the 
sight  of  him  before  half  that  many  months  had 
passed!" 

"Yes,  I  know!  I  see  now  how  foolish  and 
wrong  I  was  to  let  him  be  taken  away  from  me. 
I  simply  cannot  —  live  —  without  him!"  and 
she  leaned  her  face  against  his  breast. 

"And  you  sha'n't  try  to,"  he  said,  smoothing 
her  head  with  his  hand.  "The  sooner  you  and 
Gerry  stop  your  nonsensical  objecting  to  my  plan, 
the  better  and  safer  for  all  of  us." 

"Well,"  she  said,  after  a  few  seconds,  "wait  a 
few  days  longer.  Something  may  turn  up,  some- 
thing not  so  dreadful.  If  he  goes  to  Africa  — " 

"If  he  goes  to  Africa,"  Andrew  interrupted, 
"I  go,  too!" 

Though  I  could  not  see  his  face,  I  knew  the 
same  look  was  in  his  eyes  that  was  there  when 
he  pointed  the  pistol  at  me. 

"You?  —  you  go  to  Africa?"  Mrs.  Makart  re- 


SANDPEEP  293 

peated,  and  bent  forward  again  to  look  into  his 
face.  "What  will  you  go  to  Africa  for?" 

"To  shoot  —  tigers,"  he  answered,  and  smiled 
at  her. 

"Don't  joke,  mon  cher,  I  want  the  truth." 

"Well,  I  have  a  little  debt  of  my  own  to  settle 
with  the  gentleman;  I  owe  him  for  this,"  laying 
his  finger  on  the  scar  on  his  cheek.  "If  he 
hadn't  thrown  up  his  arm  to  prevent  the  blow 
from  my  knife,  the  time  he  and  I  had  the  little 
disagreement  about  the  boy,  and  made  it  slash 
me  instead,  there  wouldn't  be  any  need  to  hinder 
divorce  proceedings  now!  I  want  to  pay  back 
the  debt  I  owe  him  —  see?" 

"You  need  not  go  so  far  away  from  me  to  do 
that,  sir,"  —  she  pulled  his  moustache,  which 
doesn't  come  off  like  his  beard.  "I  don't  in- 
tend to  lose  sight  of  you,  ever  again!  Now, 
promise  that  you  won't  do  anything  to  War- 
rington  until  I  say  you  may?  I  may  get  the 
governess's  place,  you  know." 

"I  don't  see  how  that  will  better  matters." 

"You  shall  have  comfortable  quarters  near 
enough  for  me  and  the  boy  to  visit  you  every  day 
or  so,  and  I  may  be  able  to  find  the  certificate 
when  I  am  in  the  house.  If  I  should,  our  way  to 
prevent  a  divorce  will  be  clear,  and  you  will  not 
have  to  commit  a  crime  that  might  hang  you. 
Come,  sir,  I  want  your  promise." 

"I  will  promise  this  much,"  he  answered,  "I 


294  SANDPEEP 

won't  do  anything  but  give  him  a  beauty  spot  in 
return  for  the  one  he  gave  me,  until  I  find  that 
something  more  is  necessary  to  save  the  boy's 
fortune.  Will  that  satisfy  you,  little  maman?" 

She  answered  that  it  would,  and  nothing  more 
was  said  for  several  seconds.  Then  Andrew 
laughed  suddenly  and  exclaimed: 

"By  my  word,  petite,  I  wish  I  could  have  seen 
you  when  the  wench  played  for  you!  Ha-ha! 
Ha-ha!  Do  you  intend  to  claim  music-teaching 
as  one  of  your  accomplishments,  when  you  get  to 
be  a  governess?" 

"Not  likely!  You  must  blame  Gerry  for  get- 
ting me  into  that  scrape.  He  told  me  the  girl 
was  a  perfect  ignoramus,  almost  an  imbecile. 
Such  an  idiot  as  I  made  of  myself!" 

After  they  had  both  laughed  heartily,  Andrew 
said: 

"Well,  I  am  glad  she  is  such  an  innocent. 
You  must  manage  to  keep  on  her  right  side, 
and  you  may  learn  from  her  what  Gerry,  with 
all  his  wisdom,  does  not  seem  able  to  ferret 
out" 

"Oh,  I'll  keep  on  her  right  side,  never  fear!" 
Mrs.  Makart  allowed.  "She  takes  to  flattery  as 
a  kitten  to  milk!  She  is  easily  pumped;  ' chil- 
dren and  fools,'  you  know." 

One  needs  only  to  eavesdrop  to  find  out  what 
folks  really  think.  I  sha'n't  set  up  to  be  so  smart 
after  this,  though  Mrs.  Makart  and  Malston  may 


SANDPEEP  295 

find  out  I  am  not  such  an  " imbecile"  as  they 
think  me! 

"Are  you  sure  the  girl  is  as  innocent  as  you 
say?"  Andrew  asked. 

"Yes;  too  innocent  to  hide  what  she  thinks  of 
Warrington;  she  adores  him." 

I  was  so  vexed  that  I  felt  like  stepping  out 
and  telling  her  it  wasn't  true;  and  maybe  1 
would  have  done  so,  but  Andrew  asked  her  just 
then  if  she  really  believed  "the  owl-eyed  wench" 
was  in  love  with  the  "grand  seignior."  I  have 
found  out  that  that  is  the  way  to  spell  the  word, 
which  may  be  used  to  describe  gentlemen  like 
Mr.  Warrington,  and  not  "senior,"  as  I  have  it 
down  in  my  book  somewhere. 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  Makart  answered,  "or  I  can't  read 
the  signs!  I  don't  believe,  though,  she  knows 
yet  how  much  she  thinks  of  him;  but  you  would 
not  doubt  it  if  you  had  heard  her  beg  me  to 
make  him  so  happy  he  would  not  want  to  be 
divorced  from  me.  Ha-ha-ha!" 

And  again  they  laughed  so  hard,  I  thought 
they  would  fall  off  the  rock. 

"What  you  tell  me,"  Andrew  said,  "proves 
that  we  need  to  be  on  our  guard;  for  when  a 
woman  loves,  she  is  a  hawk  for  watchfulness. 
How  about  Warrington?  Does  he  reciprocate 
the  adoration?" 

"Not  he!  His  high  mightiness  will  not  be 
likely  to  stoop  so  low  a  second  time.  'A  burnt 


296  SANDPEEP 

child,3  you  know!  The  silly  girl  has  seen  so  few 
fine  gentlemen  that  she  is  fascinated,  like  the 
innocent  moth  that  flutters  around  the  candle." 

"And  her  fate,"  Andrew  allowed  in  a  meaning 
way,  "will  be  that  of  the  innocent  moth,  unless 
some  kind  hand  snuffs  out  the  destroying  flame! 
In  mercy  to  the  girl,  you  ought  to  let  me  do  it." 

"Wait  a  little  longer,  mon  cher;  if  there  is  no 
talk  of  divorce,  all  will  go  well." 

' '  Wait  —  wait  —  wait ! "  he  growled .  ' '  You 
and  Gerry  will  get  yourselves  and  me  into  limbo 
with  your  'wait,  wait.'  But  come,  let's  go  get 
something  to  eat;  I  am  hungry  as  a  bear."  He 
got  up  from  the  rock,  lifting  her  up  with  him, 
and  keeping  his  arm  around  her  as  they  walked 
toward  the  cottage. 

What  a  dreadful  story-teller  Mrs.  Makart  is! 
And  I  must  let  her  keep  on  saying  such  things 
about  me!  I  must  not  let  her  suspect  that  I 
heard  what  she  said  —  must  let  her  keep  on 
thinking  me  "innocent"  and  in  love  with  Mr. 
Warrington !  The  idea ! 

Well,  if  I  found  out  that  folks  talk  differently 
behind  my  back,  I  found  out  something  else,  too : 
that  the  certificate  I  did  not  think  of  much  im- 
portance is  worth  something,  after  all.  Though 
just  what  good  it  would  do  Mrs.  Makart  and  her 
brothers,  if  they  got  hold  of  it,  I  don't  know. 
But  I  am  sure  they  won't  get  it!  I  will  give  it 
to  Dr.  Parke,  and  tell  him  what  I  heard  Mrs. 


SANDPEEP  297 

Makart  and  Andrew  say  about  it.  As  I  looked 
after  the  two  deceitful  creatures  from  behind  the 
bushes,  I  felt  mad  clean  through,  and  full  of 
fight  as  a  hooked  sculpin.  It  didn't  take  long 
for  me  to  make  up  my  mind  what  to  do. 

I  made  sure  that  she  and  her  tramp  were  safe 
inside  the  cottage;  then  I  stepped  into  the  lane, 
ran  fast  as  I  could  clip  the  short  distance  to  the 
door,  which  was  open,  and  knocked,  as  if  I  were 
in  a  great  hurry.  I  pretended  to  be  quite  out  of 
breath  when  Mrs.  Makart  came  into  the  room 
from  the  kitchen,  a  slice  of  bread  in  her  hand. 

"Oh,  my  boy  —  my  boy!  What  has  hap- 
pened?" she  cried,  and  got  white  as  a  sheet. 

"Nothing  —  he  —  is  all  —  right,"  I  answered, 
and  just  wasn't  I  out  of  breath!  I  could  hardly 
speak!  " I  have  —  just  —  come  for  —  my  —  book 
—  I  am  in  —  such  a  —  hurry." 

"But  come  in  —  come  in,  and  rest  a  few  min- 
utes—  until  you  get  your  breath,"  she  insisted. 

I  told  her  I  hadn't  time,  and  I  could  have 
laughed  in  her  face,  I  was  so  tickled  at  having 
deceived  her.  I  caught  up  the  book  from  the 
table,  said  "Please  excuse  me,  but  I  can't  stop  a 
minute,"  ran  out  of  the  house  and  down  the 
lane,  until  the  turn  hid  me  from,  the  cottage  and 
the  two  deceivers  in  it.  Then  I  stopped  running 
and  took  my  time  getting  back  to  the  Lodge. 
Acting  and  telling  a  story  are  not  as  hard  as  I 
imagined. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

EN  Miss  Warrington  told  me,  after 
breakfast  this  morning,  that  Dr.  Parke 
and  Mr.  Fairboro  were  going  to  India, 
instead  of  coming  back  to  the  Lodge,  I  felt  as  if 
the  bottom  of  the  world  had  dropped  out,  and  I 
had  nothing  to  hold  on  to.  What  was  I  to  do? 

"Are  you  troubling  about  anything?"  Miss 
Warrington  asked. 

"N —  no,  thank  you,"  I  answered;  of  course  I 
couldn't  tell  her  what  troubled  me. 

"I  hope  you  have  not  had  any  bad  news  from 
your  sailor  friend?"  she  said  again. 

"Zemro  Haskell?  No,  dear  Miss  Warrington, 
I  haven't.  I  am  not  worrying  about  him,  for  I 
know  he  can  take  good  care  of  himself." 

"Something  troubles  you,"  she  insisted,  "but  I 
will  not  question  you  further.  I  am  going  to 
North  Haven  to  see  Miss  Helmsley  after  lunch- 
eon, and  I  will  take  you  and  Geoffrey  with  me, 
if  you  care  to  go." 

I  told  her  I  should  like  very  much  to  go  with 
her;  then  came  up  to  the  schoolroom,  telling 
myself  that  I  should  have  to  be  very  careful  not 
to  let  her  see  again  that  I  was  worried;  she  has 
such  sharp  eyes!  If  I  find  that  I  can't  keep  on 

298 


SANDPEEP  299 

acting  as  well  as  I  did  yesterday  and  can't  hinder 
Andrew's  plan  by  myself,  I  shall  have  to  tell  Mr. 
Warrington.  But  I  shall  try  first  to  get  a  chance 
for  Mrs.  Makart  and  I  will  speak  to  Miss  War- 
rington about  it  this  afternoon. 


After  lessons  this  morning,  I  left  Geoffrey  with 
Janet,  and  hurried  to  the  cottage  to  tell  Mrs. 
Makart  she  must  not  expect  to  see  her  boy  that 
afternoon,  as  we  were  going  to  drive  with  Miss 
Warrington. 

"But  can't  you  come  when  you  return?"  she 
asked,  and  looked  ready  to  cry. 

I  said  it  would  be  too  late  then,  and  to  comfort 
her,  added :  "  Try  to  get  along  without  seeing  him 
for  one  day,  and  think  what  a  good  chance  I  shall 
have  to  speak  to  Miss  Warrington  about  you!" 

"That  will  console  me,"  she  said,  "and  I  will 
pray  to  the  Holy  Mother  that  you  may  get  me 
the  place.  Did  you  meet  Andrew  in  the  lane?" 

"  I  came  by  the  path  I  told  you  about  the  other- 
day." 

"  Over  the  high  fence  ?  I  have  to  laugh  every 
time  I  think  of  what  you  said  about  my  climbing 
over  it.  What  if  I  were  to  tell  you  that  it  was  me 
you  saw  jump  from  the  balcony  that  morning?" 

"You?" 

She  laughed  heartily  at  my  astonishment  and 
said: 


300  SANDPEEP 

"Yes,  I!   I  had  been  in  my  boy's  room — " 

"But,  how  did  you  know  which  was  his 
room?"  I  interrupted. 

"My  brother  —  Malston  —  told  me." 

"Sure  enough!  I  wonder  Bonny  didn't  bite 
you." 

"Bonhommie?"  She  laughed  again.  "It  isn't 
likely  he  would  bite  the  woman  who  raised  him 
from  a  puppy!" 

"The  dog,  too?"  I  said  to  myself.  Well,  I 
guess  a  Yankee  girl,  determined  to  help  her 
friends,  can  match  three  foreigners  and  a  dog! 

"You  will  be  sure  to  speak  for  me  to-day?" 
she  said  at  the  door. 

"I  certainly  will,"  I  answered. 

"Heaven  bless  you,  dear  Miss  Brenson!  I 
shall  pray  every  day  to  the  Holy  Mother  for 
you." 

If  she  knew  what  a  strict  Baptist  had  brought 
me  up  she  wouldn't  think  I  set  much  store  by 
praying  to  the  "Holy  Mother." 

Miss  Warrington  —  bless  her!  —  it  isn't  to  the 
"Holy  Mother"  I  pray  for  her!  —  made  a  remark, 
when  we  were  driving  toward  North  Haven, 
that  gave  me  the  chance  to  speak  about  Mrs. 
Makart. 

"Miss  Brenson,"  she  said,  "I  wonder  if  we 
could  not  arrange  for  you  to  accompany  me, 
when  I  go  back  to  town?  Do  you  think  your 
aunt  would  object?" 


SANDPEEP  301 

"She  would  not  object,  if  she  thought  I  wanted 
to  go,"  I  answered.  "But  I  would  not  for  the 
world  let  her  know  how  dearly  I  should  love  to 
go  with  you.  I  could  not  leave  her;  she  would 
grieve  herself  to  death." 

"But  you  would  come  back  next  summer." 

"She  would  die  of  loneliness  before  then,  I'm 
afraid." 

"Have  you  no  one,  no  relations,  she  could  live 
with?" 

"All  the  relations  we  ever  had  are  at  rest  in 
the  bury  ing-ground,  in  the  pasture  back  of  our 
house." 

"I  am  very  sorry  —  " 

Sorry?  I  could  not  have  made  the  dear,  kind 
lady  understand  how  sorry  /  was. 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  —  she  said  it  again,  —  "not 
only  for  myself,  but  for  your  pupil.  I  know  I 
shall  not  find  another  teacher  who  will  be  as 
patient  as  you  are." 

"I  am  thankful  you  are  satisfied  with  me,  dear 
Miss  Warrington,"  I  answered,  and  I  gave  her 
hand  a  little  squeeze.  "I  hope  you  will  believe 
that  nothing  would  give  me  more  pleasure  than 
to  go  home  with  you,  if  I  could  leave  my  aunt. 
If  a  patient  teacher  is  what  you  want,"  I  added, 
"I  know  one  you  can  get." 

"Who  is  she  —  a  native?" 

"No;  Malston's  sister." 

"I  could  not  think  of  employing  the  sister  of 


302  SANDPEEP 

one  of  our  grooms  to  teach  my  nephew,"  she 
answered,  very  dignified  —  as  if  a  groom's  sister 
wasn't  smart  enough  to  teach  a  boy  like  Geoffrey! 

"Well,  then,"  I  said,  after  thinking  a  minute, 
determined  to  do  my  best  for  Mrs.  Makart,  and 
at  the  same  time  hating  to  deceive  the  dear, 
kind  lady  —  though  I  guess  she  would  forgive 
me  if  he  knew  the  reason  I  did  it!  —  "isn't 
there  anything  else  she  could  do  ?  —  be  a  maid, 
or  something?" 

"If  we  decide  to  retain  her  brother,  which  is 
very  probable,  I  will  try  to  find  something  for  the 
woman.  If  Agnes  goes  back  to  England,  Mrs. 
Makart  shall  have  her  place.  I  suppose  she 
knows  the  duties  of  a  housemaid?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  suppose  she  does,"  I  answered. 
"Anyhow,  she  knows  how  to  keep  her  own  house 
neat  and  clean  as  a  new  pin!" 

"Very  well,  she  shall  have  the  place,  because 
you  want  it  for  her!"  and  she  smiled  most 
kindly. 

I  thanked  her  warmly,  and  soon  afterward  we 
drove  into  the  Helmsley  place,  a  very  sightly 
spot,  though  not  nearly  so  large  as  Surgecliff 
Lodge. 

Miss  Helmsley  was  very  kind  to  me,  and 
showed  me  all  over  the  house;  after  which  she 
gave  us  a  cup  of  tea,  and  some  perfectly  delicious 
cake.  When  we  were  leaving,  she  said  to  Miss 
Warrington:  "Please  don't  let  Brian  forget  that 


SANDPEEP  303 

we  expect  him  to  dine  with  us  on  Saturday,  and 
to  come  prepared  to  remain  over  Sunday — " 

"I  sha'n't  tell  him  that,"  Miss  Warrington  in- 
terrupted. "He  must  not  leave  me  and  Juliet 
without  a  protector  at  night!  But  you  may 
expect  him  to  dinner." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

1WAS  passing  through  the  hall  from  the  dining- 
room,  the  morning  after  my  drive  with  Miss 
Warrington,  when  James  told  me  that  one  of 
the  grooms  wanted  to  speak  to  me  at  the  side 
door.     It  was  Malston.     He  had  come  to  tell  me 
that  his  sister  was  sick  with  a  very  sore  throat - 
and  thought  the  little  master  had  better  not  go  to 
the  cottage  until  the  doctor  should  say  there  was 
no  danger. 

I  was  sorry  for  her,  of  course,  as  I  should  be 
for  any  sick  body;  but  I  was  a  good  deal  sorrier 
that  her  sickness  would  hinder  me  from  going  to 
the  cottage,  to  keep  my  watch  over  her  and 
Andrew. 

I  told  Malston  that  I  had  spoken  to  Miss 
Warrington  about  the  chance  for  his  sister,  and 
I  thought  she  might  depend  on  getting  it. 

He  thanked  me  over  and  over  again,  and  said 
he  knew  the  good  news  would  help  to  console 
her  for  the  loss  of  my  delightful  society!  He 
thinks  I  don't  know  what  so  much  "butter  and 
sugar"  are  for!  The  doctor  said  she  had  a  slight 
attack  of  diphtheria,  which  is  very  catching,  and 
though  I  was  not  afraid  for  myself,  Miss  War- 
rington would  not  allow  me  to  go  to  the  cottage, 


304 


SANDPEEP  305 

for  fear  I  might  give  the  terrible  disease  to  Geof- 
frey. As  Malston  wouldn't  be  allowed  to  go  to 
see  his  sister,  either,  while  there  was  danger,  she 
would  have  only  Andrew  to  take  care  of  her,  and 
I  felt  pretty  sure  he  wouldn't  try  to  harm  Mr. 
Warrington  while  she  was  sick,  and  I  might  safely 
go  home  on  Saturday  as  usual. 

But  I  was  mistaken! 

The  fog  was  really  " thick  as  mustard"  on  Sat- 
urday evening.  Aunt  and  I  were  getting  ready 
for  bed,  she  in  the  spare-chamber,  and  I  in  the 
closet-room,  when  a  loud  knock  at  the  door  made 
us  both  jump. 

" My  soul  'n'  body!"  aunt  exclaimed,  and  hur- 
ried on  her  dress.  "  Who's  thet,  this  time  o' 
night?  Somebody's  took  sick,  I  cal'late." 

She  took  the  candle,  by  which  we  had  both 
been  getting  ready  for  bed,  from  the  kitchen 
table  and  opened  the  door.  A  man  in  a  rubber 
coat,  with  the  rim  of  his  hat  pulled  down  over 
his  eyes,  was  standing  on  the  stoop.  I  could  see 
him  plainly  through  a  crack  in  the  closet-door, 
but  I  did  not  recognize  him  until  he  spoke. 
Then  I  was  scared!  It  was  Andrew;  and  Mr. 
Warrington  would  be  going  home  from  North 
Haven  late,  and  by  himself! 

"Pardon  me,  madame,  for  disturbing  you," 
he  said,  without  taking  off  his  hat,  "but  I  have 
lost  my  way.  I  want  to  go  to  North  Haven,  and 
I  don't  know  which  way  to  turn  in  this  heavy  fog." 


306  SANDPEEP 

Aunt  held  the  candle  so  close  to  his  face  it 
almost  set  fire  to  his  beard,  when  she  answered: 

"Ef  you  caPlated  to  git  to  North  Haven  down 
this  way,  mister,  guess  you  hev  lost  your  way, 
sure  enough!" 

"Isn't  there  a  road  along  the  shore  here  to 
North  Haven?"  he  interrupted. 

"No,  there  hain't  no  road  along  the  shore 
here  to  North  Haven,  'n'  to  nowhere  else!"  she 
answered,  tart  as  vinegar.  She  wasn't  pleased 
with  his  way  of  talking.  "You  hev  to  go  'crosst 
the  pastur,  'n'  through  the  woods  to  the  main 
road,  then  turn  to  the  west'erd  — " 

"I  don't  know  west  from  east  here,"  he  inter- 
rupted again,  and  more  impatiently.  "I  am  a 
stranger  in  these  parts." 

"Thet's  what  I  caPlated!  Wall,  ef  you  don't 
know  west  from  east,  guess  you  kin  tell  your  left 
hand  from  your  right.  When  you  git  to  the  end 
of  the  wood-road,  you  jes'  turn  to  your  left  — 
thet's  west'erd  —  'n'  keep  to  thet  road,  'n'  you'll 
git  to  North  Haven  bimeby." 

"Thank  you." 

He  had  stepped  down  from  the  stoop,  when 
aunt's  kind  heart  made  her  say: 

"Ef  you'd  like  to  hev  a  lantern  I'll  loan  you 
one,  'n'  you  kin  fetch  it  back  in  the  morninV 

"I'm  not  coming  back  this  way,"  he  answered, 
very  crossly,  and  walked  out  of  the  door-yard. 
Though  he  had  not  been  the  least  bit  polite, 


SANDPEEP  307 

aunt  stood  on  the  stoop  with  the  candle  until  he 
was  in  the  pasture-road,  and  before  she  turned 
to  come  into  the  house  she  called  after  him: 
" Good-night,  mister,  'n'  good  luck  to  you!" 
"Good  luck  to  him!  Not  if  /  can  hinder  it,"  I 
said  to  myself.  I  knew  very  well  why  he  was 
going  to  North  Haven  at  that  late  hour,  and  I 
made  up  my  mind,  before  he  left  the  stoop,  that 
he  shouldn't  harm  Mr.  .Warrington  if  I  could 
hinder  it;  and  I  thought  I  could.  I  thought 
aunt  never  would  get  to  bed,  she  had  so  much 
to  say  about  the  "  strange  gentleman  thet  hedn't 
a  mite  of  manners." 

At  last  I  was  free  to  get  ready  to  follow  Andrew, 
for  that  is  what  I'd  made  up  my  mind  to  do.  I 
stole  out  to  the  shed,  where  I  put  on  Zemro's  old 
oilskin  coat  and  hat,  and  rubber  boots;  and  when 
my  skirts  were  pinned  up,  so  they  wouldn't  show 
below  the  coat,  which  was  buttoned  to  the  chin, 
and  the  rim  of  my  hat  was  pulled  down  over  the 
coat  collar,  no  one  could  have  told  that  I  wasn't 
a  boy.  Then  I  lighted  the  lantern,  blew  out  the 
candle,  and  slipped  out  of  the  shed-door.  I  hur- 
ried across  the  pasture  and  up  the  wood-road, 
dreadfully  afraid  I  should  not  be  able  to  catch 
up  with  Andrew,  for  my  feet  were  heavy  with 
the  big  rubber  boots;  but  when  I  got  into  the 
main  road,  I  heard  stumbling  footsteps  just  ahead 
of  me,  and  knew  they  were  not  made  by  a 
longshore  body.  We  are  all  too  well  acquainted 


3o8  SANDPEEP 

with  our  rough  roads  to  go  along  kicking  every 
rock  in  them.  How  Andrew  found  his  way 
to  the  main  road  I  can't  imagine;  for  it  was 
"dark  as  in  a  bean-pot;"  the  fog  was  so  thick 
that  my  lantern  made  shadows  on  it  as  on 
a  wall. 

I  don't  think  I  really  "sensed,"  as  aunt  would 
say,  just  what  I  had  undertaken,  until  I  heard 
those  stumbling  footsteps  ahead  of  me;  and  it 
took  every  mite  of  courage  I  had  in  me  to  follow 
them.  I  would  not  let  myself  think  what  might 
happen  if  Andrew  should  recognize  me.  I  knew 
he  would  take  good  care  not  to  let  me  snatch  a 
pistol  from  him  a  second  time!  I  thought  only 
of  what  would  surely  happen,  if  I  did  not  carry 
out  my  plan.  So,  pretending  to  be  Lonny  Mar- 
kle,  whom  I  can  mock  so  exactly  that  it  would 
deceive  his  own  mother,  I  began  to  whistle  in 
his  no-tune  way,  and  slouched  forward  with  long 
steps  just  like  his.  Clump-clump,  went  my  heavy 
boots  among  the  rocks  in  the  road,  the  lantern 
swinging  forward  and  back  with  every  step. 

"Hello!"  I  said,  talking  through  my  nose,  ex- 
actly like  Lonny,  when  I  caught  up  with  the 
stumbler.  "Where  you  bound  fur,  mister?" 

"What  business  is  that  of  yours,  Sniffles?"  he 
answered,  turning  to  look  at  me  for  a  second 
and  then  pulling  the  collar  of  his  coat  farther 
over  his  face. 

"Hain't  any  business  of  mine,  mister;  I  jes' 


SANDPEEP  309 

ast,  thet's  all,"  and  I  began  to  whistle  again, 
and  made  believe  to  walk  on  ahead,  but  he  kept 
up  with  me,  and  after  a  minute  asked : 

"Where  are  you  going,  sonny?" 

"Cal'late  thet's  my  business,  mister!"  I  an- 
swered, just  as  Lonny  would  have,  for  he  is  an 
impudent  boy. 

Andrew  laughed,  then  said : 

"Right  you  are,  son  —  tit  for  tat!  Take  your 
own  part,  that's  the  only  way  to  get  along  in  this 
world!  But  we  won't  quarrel  about  good  man- 
ners; let's  be  good  comrades,  for  I  want  to  jog 
along  with  your  lantern,  if  you  are  going  my  way." 

"All  right,  mister,  I  hain't  no  objections.  The 
light  sha'n't  cost  you  nawthin,  ef  you're  bound 
fur  Sandy  P'int." 

" Where's  Sandy  P'int?" 

"To  the  east'erd  of  North  Haven  — " 

"This  side,  or  the  other  side  of  North 
Haven?"  he  interrupted. 

"This  here  side." 

"How  far  is  it  from  North  Haven?" 

"  'Tain't  very  fur." 

"  How  far  ?  "  —  impatiently. 

"Wall  — I  d'no'  jes'  ezactly." 

"Is  it  on  the  same  road?" 

"Is  what  on  the  same  road  to  where?" 

He  said  a  swear  word  before  he  explained: 

"Is  Sandy  P'int  on  the  same  road  to  North 
Haven?" 


310  SANDPEEP 

"Ya'as  't  be;  only,  when  you  git  to  where  the 
road  forks,  you  turn  to  the  west'erd  to  go  to 
North  Haven,  'n'  to  the  east'erd  to  go  to  the 
Pint" 

"Well,  when  we  come  to  where  the  road 
forks,  tell  me  which  way  to  turn  to  go  to 
North  Haven  —  you  understand  ?  " 

"Cal'late  I  do.  Be  you  stoppin'  to  North 
Haven?" 

"Near  there,"  he  answered,  very  shortly. 

"On  a  vessil,  I  cal'late?" 

"Yes." 

"Be  you  the  skipper?" 

"No." 

"Vessil  goin'  to  stop  long  to  North  Haven?" 

"No!  Mind  you  don't  forget  to  tell  me  where 
to  turn  off!" 

"I  sha'n't.  We  hain't  come  to  the  place  yit; 
it's  furder  on." 

And  farther  on  we  jogged,  a  strange  pair, 
neither  of  us  what  we  seemed,  our  giant  shadows 
on  the  walls  of  fog  on  either  side  keeping  us 
company  along  the  lonely  road. 

"Here  we  be,"  I  told  him,  and  stopped  when 
we  got  to  the  lane  which  leads  to  Wadham's 
pond.  "You  jes'  keep  straight  along  this  here 
road,  'n'  you'll  git  to  North  Haven,  bimeby." 

"This  doesn't  look  like  a  road  that's  used 
often,"  he  allowed,  peering  down  at  the  tall 
grass  in  the  lane.  "Are  you  sure  this  is  right?" 


SANDPEEP  311 

"Ya'as;  'tain't  used  's  much  as  the  one  to  the 
P'int  —  more  folks  go  there." 

"How  far  is  it  from  here  to  North  Haven?" 

" 'Tain't  fur—  " 

"How  far?"  —  very  angrily.  "Can't  you  give 
me  an  idea?  Is  it  one  mile,  or  a  dozen?" 

"'Tain't  a  dozen,  only  about  two,  or  mebbe 
three,  'n'  mebbe  four—" 

"Oh,  damn  your  'mebbes'!"  he  interrupted. 
"Don't  you  live  around  here,  that  you  can't 
tell  how  far  one  place  is  from  another?" 

"Ya'as,  I  live  'round  here — not  jes'  right  here, 
hain't  nobody  lives  right  here  —  but  I  hain't 
never  heerd  anybody  say  jes'  how  fur  't  is  from 
here  to  North  Haven;  hain't  never  heerd  't  any- 
body measured  this  road.  Some  folks  'lows  it's 
two  mile,  'n'  some  'lows  it's  three,  'n'  — " 

He  swore  dreadfully  and  started  up  the  lane, 
but  stopped  after  he  had  gone  a  little  ways  and 
called : 

"Say,  you  boy!" 

"What  be  you  wantin'  now,  mister?"  I  stopped 
whistling  to  inquire. 

"Are  you  positively  sure  this  is  the  right  road? 
It  doesn't  seem  to  have  been  used  this  year." 

"Guess  you  hev  got  onto  the  side  of  it,  where 
the  grass  hes  growed.  Keep  to  the  middle, 
mister,  'n'  you'll  git  there,  sure  'n'  certing!" 

"It's  dark  as-  -here!"  likening  it  to  a  place 
that  isn't  dark  at  all! 


312  SANDPEEP 

"Guess  you  don't  know  what  sort  of  a  place 
you're  talkin'  about,  mister,"  I  called.  "  'Cordin' 
to  Elder  Snowdon,  it's  het  up  day  'n'  night  with 
everlastin'  fire  'n'  brimstun,  'n'  guess  you'll  find 
it  out  too,  sometime,  ef  yu  keep  on  cussin'  thet 
way!" 

He  told  me  to  go  to  the  "place";  then  he  went 
his  way,  and  I  mine,  I  toward  North  Haven  and 
he  toward  the  pond.  I  knew  the  water  wasn't 
deep  enough  to  drown  him,  if  he  should  stumble 
into  it  in  the  dark,  though  he  would  have  a  time 
getting  out,  if  he  got  tangled  among  the  lilies. 
Anyhow,  by  the  time  he  found  out  that  "Snif- 
fles" had  sent  him  on  the  wrong  road,  Mr. 
Warrington  would  be  safe  back  at  the  Lodge. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

TV  THEN  Andrew  and  I  parted,  I  hadn't  the 
\\/  least  idea  what  time  it  was,  for  I  had 
started  from  home  in  such  a  hurry  that 
I  forgot  to  look  at  the  clock;  the  fog  made  it 
seem  much  later  than  it  was,  too.  Even  if  I  had 
known  the  time  I  should  not  have  been  able  to 
tell  just  when  Mr.  Warrington  would  leave  North 
Haven,  for  city  folks  eat  dinner  so  late  and  take 
so  long  that  it  would  likely  be  near  to  midnight 
before  I  need  look  for  him  to  come  along. 

But,  midnight  or  morning,  I  wasn't  going  back 
home  until  he  did  come,  for  it  might  happen, 
though  it  wasn't  likely,  that  Andrew  might  meet 
someone  who  would  set  him  on  the  right  road; 
or  he  might  turn  back  of  his  own  accord.  I  was 
going  to  hinder  a  meeting  between  him  and  Mr. 
Warrington  if  I  had  to  stay  there  until  broad 
daylight!  It  seemed  hours  before  I  heard  the 
sound  of  horse-hoofs  coming  up  the  North  Haven 
road.  I  shall  never  forget  that  time  of  waiting, 
if  I  live  to  be  old  as  "Methusalum,"  as  aunt 
calls  him.  I  imagined  all  sorts  of  dreadful  things. 
I  thought  a  dozen  times  that  I  heard  footsteps 
and  I  was  sure  they  were  Andrew's.  I  hid  the 
lantern  behind  some  rocks  and  bushes  so  that  not 


313 


314  SANDPEEP 

a  speck  of  light  showed;  and  I  sat  still  as  a 
mouse,  waiting,  listening,  all  a-tremble,  my  heart 
pitty-pattying  so  loud  I  could  almost  hear  it. 

I  made  sure  that  the  sounds  I  heard  at  last 
were  of  horse-hoofs  before  I  stepped  from  be- 
hind the  rocks  into  the  road.  Then  I  started  in 
the  home  direction,  whistling  and  swinging  my 
lantern;  I  was  Lonny  Markle  again. 

"Good  evening,  my  lad,"  said  Mr.  Warring- 
ton's  voice,  when  the  horse  came  up  with  me. 

" Hello,  mister!"  Lonny  answered;  I  hadn't 
the  courage  to  look  up. 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"A  little  ways  furder  'n  Bunker's  Cove,"  hold- 
ing the  lantern  so  that  the  light  shouldn't  show 
above  my  coat-tail. 

"That  is  fortunate  for  me.  I  had  no  idea  it 
was  so  dark,  or  I  should  have  brought  a  lantern. 
I  have  been  forced  to  trust  to  my  horse  to  find 
the  road  in  this  beastly  fog.  I  shall  be  greatly 
obliged  if  you  will  permit  me  to  share  the  light 
as  far  as  we  go  together." 

"I  hain't  no  objections,  'm  sure,"  Lonny  an- 
swered, and  Sandpeep  remarked  to  herself: 
"What  a  difference  between  polite  Mr.  War- 
rington  and  Andrew,  with  no  manners  at  all!" 

"Aren't  you  out  rather  late,  my  lad?"  asked 
the  voice  above  my  head. 

"Ya'as,  some;  I  be  goin'  a  nurrand." 

"Someone  ill,  I  dare  say?" 


SANDPEEP  315 

An  answer  wasn't  absolutely  necessary,  so  I 
didn't  give  any,  but  I  ventured  after  a  minute 
to  inquire  if  he  was  going  "furder'n  Bunker's 
Cove." 

"Yes,  to  Surgecliff  Lodge;  do  you  know  where 
that  is?" 

"Ya'as,  'n'  I  know  a  short  cut  to  there  ef 
you're  in  a  hurry,  'n'  ef  your  beast  ain't  scart 
of  goin'  through  water."  I  mentioned  the  old 
shore-path,  which  is  safe  enough  for  a  horse 
that  doesn't  mind  water,  because  I  kept  fear- 
ing that  Andrew  might  have  turned  back. 

"How  deep  is  the  water  we  should  have  to 
cross?"  Mr.  Warrington  asked. 

"Depends  on  the  tide.  Ef  it's  out,  there 
hain't  scursely  any;  ef  it's  flood,  the  water'll  not 
come  above  your  horse's  knees.  The  inlet's  only 
about  twenty  feet  wide  where  we  hev  to  cross  it." 

"Very  well!  Then  let  us  take  the  shorter  road. 
But  how  will  you  cross  the  inlet  if  the  tide  is  in?" 

"I  hev  rubber  boots  on." 

'All  right,  then;  lead  the  way,  my  lad!  I  am 
anxious  to  get  back  to  the  Lodge." 

He  wasn't  more  anxious  to  get  there  than  I 
was  to  have  him  there,  safe  and  sound! 

When  we  had  crossed  the  meadow,  between 
the  road  and  the  shore,  and  were  near  the  inlet, 
which  was  filled  with  water,  I  said: 

"Guess  I  better  lead  the  horse  acrosst,  mister; 
he  might  git  scart  ef  a  wave  should  roll  in." 


316  SANDPEEP 

"Are  you  perfectly  sure  you  know  where  you 
are  going?"  he  asked,  trying  to  peer  through  the 
fog  to  the  further  side  of  the  inlet. 

"Ya'as  I  be.  I  know  this  here  road  like  a 
book.  I  hev  crossed  here  more  'n  a  hundred 
times." 

Just  then  a  big  wave  rolled  into  the  inlet  and 
up  to  the  horse's  feet.  The  swishing  sound 
scared  him.  He  reared  and  stamped  around, 
and  for  a  minute  I  was  afraid  he  would  throw 
his  rider.  But  Mr.  Warrington  stuck  to  the 
saddle  like  a  burr  to  a  sheep's  back. 

"It  is  foolhardy  to  try  to  cross  here  now,"  he 
said,  and  patted  his  horse's  neck  to  quiet  him. 
"We  must  go  back  to  the  road." 

"There  isn't  the  least  danger,  sir,"  I  inter- 
rupted, forgetting  to  be  sniffling  Lonny  in  my 
eagerness  to  hinder  him  from  going  back  —  to 
real  danger,  maybe!  But  I  don't  think  he 
noticed:  he  was  too  busy  with  his  horse;  and 
before  he  could  speak  again  I  had  caught  hold 
of  the  bridle  and  pulled  the  horse  after  me  into 
the  water. 

We  were  almost  across  the  inlet  when  a  second 
big  wave  swept  up  to  the  horse's  knees.  He 
snorted,  reared  up  on  his  hind  legs  and  splashed 
the  water  all  over  me;  but  I  stuck  to  the  bridle 
like  another  burr,  and  after  a  short  tussle  I 
drew  him  after  me  up  the  bank  to  the  road. 

"Here  you  be,  mister,  safe  'n'  sound!"  I  said, 


SANDPEEP  317 

and  let  go  the  bridle.  "Now,  it's  only  'bout  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  to  the  Lodge." 

"You  have  come  a  considerable  distance  out 
of  your  way,  haven't  you?"  he  asked. 

"A  right  smart  ways,"  I  allowed,  "but  I  don't 
mind  't  a  mite;  I  ain't  scart  of  the  dark.  Do 
you  want  I  should  go  with  you  furder?  " 

"Thank  you,  no!  The  fog  seems  to  be  lifting, 
and  my  horse  will  have  no  difficulty  finding  his 
way  home  from  here.  I  am  very  much  obliged 
to  you  for  showing  me  the  shorter  road.  This  is 
for  your  trouble." 

"This"  was  a  half  dollar,  which  he  leaned 
from  the  saddle  to  give  to  Lonny  Markle.  Sand- 
peep  Brenson  would  have  refused  it,  but  Lonny 
had  to  take  it.  He  said:  "Much  obliged  to 
you,  mister,"  and  waited  in  the  road  until  the 
horse  and  his  rider  had  vanished  into  the  fog. 
Then  Sandpeep  Brenson  ran,  fast  as  she  could 
in  her  heavy  boots,  back  to  Bunker's  Cove. 

I  did  not  light  a  match  to  look  at  the  clock 
when  I  got  home,  for  I  did  not  want  to  waken 
aunt;  so  I  haven't  the  least  idea  what  time  it 
was.  I  think,  though,  it  must  have  been  after 
midnight. 

My  first  thought  when  I  awoke  the  next  morn- 
ing was,  naturally,  of  Andrew;  and  I  hoped  he 
had  got  a  good  ducking  in  the  lily-pond.  I  believe 
I  was  more  scared  in  broad  daylight  at  what  I 
had  done,  than  I  had  been  while  doing  it.  I 


318  SANDPEEP 

know  I  could  not  do  it  again.  Suppose  Andrew 
had  found  out  I  was  "the  wench,"  instead  of 
sniffling  Lonny!  I  should  be  dead  now,  with  a 
bullet  in  me,  lying  somewhere  among  the  bushes 
along  the  road,  and  poor  old  aunt  would  be  out 
of  her  mind  with  grieving  for  her  lost  Sandpeep! 

I  am  not  as  brave,  after  all,  as  I  thought  I 
was.  I  can  only  hope  and  pray  that  the  dread- 
ful creature  will  not  try  to  do  anything  more  until 
I  get  back  to  the  Lodge. 

When  aunt  and  I  went  to  meeting  this  morn- 
ing, several  Cove  men  were  standing  near  the 
schoolhouse  steps,  listening  to  Everett  Bassett, 
who  was  telling  them  something  which  seemed  to 
interest  them  very  much.  As  the  Elder  hadn't 
come  yet,  I  stopped  to  hear  what  Everett  was 
talking  about. 

"He  told  me  'n'  Whitcom'  't  a  young  chap  't 
wus  goin'  to  Sandy  P'int,  hed  told  him  the 
pond-lane  wus  the  road  to  North  Haven,  'n' 
thet  he  hed  gone  thet  way  nach'ly,  bein'  a 
stranger  'round  here,  'n'  not  acquainted  with  the 
roads  - 

"  'N'  he  walked  right  into  the  pond,  you  say?" 
one  of  the  men  interrupted. 

"Right  straight  into  't." 

"  'N'  who  wus  the  young  chap  't  told  him 
the  pond-lane  wus  the  road  to  North  Haven?" 
another  listener  asked. 

"I  don't  know.     The  gentleman  'lowed  he  was 


SANDPEEP  319 

a  tall  chap  'n'  hed  on  an  oilskin  coat,  V  sou'- 
wester, 'n'  hed  a  lantern." 

"Like  's  not  't  wus  Nahum  Bartlett,"  one  of 
the  men  allowed. 

"No,  't  wa'n't  Nahum;  he's  mackrelin'  down 
to  'Tit  Manan,"  Everett  answered.  "Whoever 
't  wus  come  near  to  drowndin'  the  gentleman, 
fur  he  got  all  tangled  up  'mong  the  lilies 
growin'  in  the  pond.  When  he  got  out,  he 
didn't  know  which  way  to  go,  fur  he'd  got 
completely  turned  'round,  wrastlin'  with  them 
lily-stems,  so  he  jes'  set  down  on  the  ground, 
wet 's  a  drownded  kittin,  'n'  waited  till  't  got 
light  enough  to  see  where  he  was  goin'." 

"Wa'n't  any  too  pleased,  dessay?"  one  of  the 
listeners  allowed,  and  laughed. 

"No  he  wa'n't;  when  I  see  him,  over  to  Whit- 
corn's,  where  he  wus  drinkin'  some  hot  tea  Mis' 
Whitcom'  'd  made  fur  him,  he  was  mad 's  a 
smoked-out  hornet." 

"Guess  ef  he  could  get  hold  of  thet  young 
chap,  he  wouldn't  treat  him  to  sas'prilly!" 

"Don't  guess  he  would,"  agreed  Everett,  and 
laughed  with  the  rest. 

I  "don't  guess"  he  would,  either!  and  I  am 
truly  thankful  he  believes  it  was  a  "young  chap" 
that  sent  him  down  the  pond-lane. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

"1 17  THEN  Malston  came  to  the  Cove  for  me  on 

yy  Monday  morning,  he  told  me  his  sister 
was  much  better;  that  the  doctor  had 
made  a  mistake.  It  wasn't  diphtheria  she'd  had, 
only  a  bad  sore  throat,  and  I  might  call  to  see 
her  very  soon.  I  understood  then  about  Andrew 
leaving  her  on  Saturday  evening;  but  I  imagine 
he  hadn't  expected  to  stay  all  night,  when  he 
started  to  North  Haven!  I  should  like  to  know 
if  she  knew  what  his  errand  was,  and  what  he 
told  her  had  kept  him.  She  must  have  passed 
an  anxious  night. 

I  was  on  my  way  to  the  schoolroom,  when 
Miss  Warrington  called  to  me  from  the  door  of 
her  room:  "Here  are  two  letters  for  you,  Miss 
Brenson.  Donald  brought  them  with  our  mail 
from  the  Headlands." 

"Two  letters! "  I  repeated  in  great  surprise,  going 
back  to  get  them.  One  is  enough  always  to  set  me 
all  a-tremble  with  curiosity  and  expectation! 

As  I  guessed,  one  was  from  Dr.  Parke.  The 
writing  on  the  other  envelope  was  strange  to  me. 
I  opened  the  doctor's,  and  I  copy  it  here  in  my 
book,  so  that  I  need  not  trouble  to  store  it  in 
my  mind-closet! 

320 


SANDPEEP  321 

"ON  BOARD  THE  Nautilus, 
"NEW  YORK  HARBOR, 

"  AUGUST  25th,  187 — 

"Mv  DEAR  KEREN, — 

"When  I  came  away  from  Surgecliff  I  had  not  the 
least  expectation  of  voyaging  around  the  world,  or  I 
should  have  told  you  what  I  must  write  now,  in 
great  haste,  as  our  yacht  is  about  to  weigh  anchor. 
If  you  should  see  that  tramp  again,  or  discover  evi- 
dences of  his  presence  in  your  neighborhood,  at  once 
inform  Mr.  Warrington.  I  assure  you  it  is  of  the 
greatest  importance  that  he  should  know  everything 
which  relates  to  that  ruffian,  who  would  have  shot 
you  but  for  your  courageous  act. 

"  In  great  haste, 

"Your  old  friend, 

"L.  J.  PARKE." 

As  I  had  decided  to  do  what  the  doctor  ad- 
vised, I  didn't  have  to  puzzle  over  his  letter; 
but  the  other  gave  me  something  to  think  about. 
It  was  from  Mr.  Fairboro,  and  also  written  on 
board  the  vessel.  I  copy  it  here,  too,  for  I 
think  any  girl  would  be  pleased  to  have  such 
a  perfectly  lovely  letter  to  read  over  once  in  a 
while : 

"My  DEAR  Miss  BRENSON, — 

"As  my  hasty  departure  from  Surgecliff  prevented 
me  from  bidding  you  good-bye,  I  send  it  with  the 
enclosed,  in  which  you  will  recognize  the  list  of 
names  you  requested  me  to  write  out  for  you,  that 
memorable  Sunday  we  walked  home  together  from 
the  schoolhouse.  I  trust  this  list  may  afford  you 
some  pleasurable  as  well  as  profitable  moments,  and 
beg  that,  while  you  are  making  yourself  acquainted 


322  SANDPEEP 

with  these  distinguished  personages,  through  the 
medium  of  your  favorite  encyclopaedia,  you  will  give 
a  thought  to  the  ^^distinguished  friend  who  made 
it  possible  for  you  to  know  them! 

"Mere  pen  and  ink  are  powerless  adequately  to 
express  feeling;  else  might  I  convince  you  how  loth 
I  was  to  leave  the  Lodge  without  seeing  you  again. 
But  this  long  voyage  will  be  made  endurable,  in  a 
measure,  by  the  expectation  I  shall  cherish  of  re- 
turning next  summer  to  your  charmingly  pictur- 
esque neighborhood.  I  wish  I  might  also  expect  to 
find,  when  I  meet  you  again,  that  you  had  not 
plighted  your  troth  to  a  favored  suitor,  while  an 
untoward  fate  compelled  me  to  roam! 

"I  feel  —  alas! — that  it  would  be  an  imperti- 
nence were  I  to  ask  you  to  remain  'heart-whole  and 
fancy-free '  until  we  meet  again!  I  can  only  hope 
that  you  will! 

"At  our  first  port  I  shall  be  able  to  write  you 
where  to  address  a  letter  to  me.  You  see  that  I  am 
looking  forward  to  hearing  from  you!  Please  write 
to  me;  tell  me  all  about  yourself,  what  you  are 
doing,  for  —  I  beg  you  to  believe  —  everything  that 
interests  you  will  be  of  the  greatest  interest  to 
"Yours  faithfully,  —  now  and  always! 

"CARRINGTON  FAIRBORO." 

There!  Isn't  that  just  too  beautiful  for  any- 
thing? And  won't  I  enjoy  reading  it  when  I 
am  a  wrinkled,  gray-haired  old  woman,  like 
aunt?  While  I  was  in  the  library,  looking  in 
the  dictionary  to  find  out  what  plighting  troth 
meant,  Miss  Warrington  came  in,  and,  seeing 
the  open  letter  in  my  hand,  she  asked,  smiling: 

"Has  the  doctor  puzzled  you  with  one  of  his 
big  words?" 


SANDPEEP  323 

"Not  the  doctor,"  I  answered;  and  I  got  red 
as  a  beet. 

"Mr.  Fairboro,  then?  You  see,  I  know  his 
writing!" 

"Ye— es." 

"My  dear,"  laying  her  hand  on  my  shoulder, 
"don't  think  me  a  meddlesome  old  woman  if  I 
ask  if  Carrington  Fairboro  wants  you  to  corre- 
spond with  him?  Believe  me,  I  ask  it  for  your 
own  good." 

"I  do  believe  you,  dear  Miss  Warrington. 
Yes,  Mr.  Fairboro  wants  me  to  write  to  him." 

"And  shall  you?" 

"I  —  I  don't  know  —  not  if  you  think  I'd 
better  not." 

"I  hardly  know  what  to  say,"  she  answered, 
slowly,  after  thinking  a  minute.  "The  lad  is 
such  an  unconscionable  flirt!  I  think,  if  I  were 
you,  I  should  burn  his  letter  and  think  no  more 
about  it.  I  advise  you  to  do  this  for  your  own 
happiness.  You  don't  care  especially  about  him, 
do  you?"  —  looking  at  me  closely. 

"I  think  he  is  a  very  pleasant  gentleman,  and 
I  like  to  talk  to  him,  because  he  knows  so  much 
more  than  I  do.  That  is  how  I  think  of  him, 
and  not  in  the  way  you  believe  I  do,  dear  Miss 
Warrington,"  I  assured  her. 

"And  you  would  like  to  correspond  with  him 
because  you  imagine  you  would  learn  something 
from  him?" 


324  SANDPEEP 

"Yes,  I  think  I  should,  if  he  didn't  write  such 
puzzling  things." 

"What  sort  of  puzzling  things?  I  don't  un- 
derstand." 

"I  didn't,  either,  until  I  looked  in  the  diction- 
ary. I  just  couldn't  imagine  what  he  meant  by 
'plighting  troth'—" 

"Does  he  ask  you  to  plight  your  troth?"  she 
interrupted  quickly. 

"No  —  only  wishes  he  might  expect  to  find, 
when  he  comes  back  here,  that  I  hadn't  plighted 
my  troth  to  somebody.  We  don't  call  it  that 
here,  so  I  had  -to  look  in  the  dictionary  to  see 
what  it  meant!  I  don't  really  believe,"  I  added 
hastily,  seeing  that  her  eyebrows  had  come  close 
together,  just  like  Mr.  Warrington's  when  he  is 
vexed,  "he  wrote  that  way  because  he  would 
want  to  be  my  company.  I  think  he  likes  to 
talk  to  me  almost  as  well  as  I  do  to  him,  and 
thinks  it  wouldn't  be  proper  to  do  so,  if  I  had 
plighted  my  troth  to  somebody  else." 

"Well,  whatever  he  may  think  now,"  she 
answered,  "you  may  be  quite  certain  that  he  will 
not  be  of  the  same  mind  next  summer.  He  is 
exactly  like  the  giddy  butterfly  which  flits  from 
flower  to  flower;  he  forgets  the  blossom  he  has 
admired  the  moment  another  attracts  his  fancy. 
So,  take  my  advice  —  burn  his  letter,  and  think 
no  more  about  it,  or  him!" 

I  can  burn  the  letter  easily  enough,  and  I  will; 


SANDPEEP  325 

but  I  don't  want  to  forget  it,  it  is  too  pretty.  I 
couldn't  forget  him  if  I  wanted  to,  for  I  haven't 
met  enough  nice,  smart  gentlemen  to  crowd  any- 
one of  them  out  of  my  mind.  After  all,  I  guess 
it's  the  "smart"  in  a  man  I  care  for  more  than 
the  man  himself.  Dear  knows!  if  Zemro  could 
book-talk  like  Mr.  Fairboro,  and  write  such 
beautiful  letters,  he  wouldn't  need  to  be  cruis- 
ing in  the  West  Indies;  and  aunt  wouldn't  be 
shucking  her  lobsters  herself! 

I  hadn't  a  chance  to  speak  to  Mr.  Warrington 
about  the  doctor's  letter,  for  he  rode  away  with 
his  cousin  directly  after  luncheon.  So  I  took 
Geoffrey  and  went  to  call  on  Mrs.  Makart.  She 
was  lying  on  the  lounge  in  the  front  room,  and 
called  out,  before  I  got  to  the  door:  "I  don't 
hear  the  patter  of  little  feet!  Oh,  why  haven't 
you  brought  my  darling?" 

"He  is  coming,"  I  answered,  walking  into  the 
room;  "he  has  only  stopped  at  the  gate  to  look 
at  a  caterpillar.  How  are  you  to-day?" 

"Almost  well  again,  thank  you.  I  could  say 
quite  my  old  self  again,  if  I  hadn't  had  such  a 
terrible  fright  on  Saturday.  I  have  hardly  got 
over  it  yet." 

"What  happened  to  scare  you?"  I  asked,  as 
if  I  did  not  know. 

"Andrew  lost  himself  in  the  fog  and  wandered 
around  all  night,  trying  to  find  his  way.  He  had 
to  go  to  the  Headlands  for  some  medicine  on 


326  SANDPEEP 

Saturday  afternoon,  and  he  never  came  back 
until  late  yesterday  morning.  Oh,  I  can't  tell 
you  how  awfully  frightened  I  was,  here  by  my- 
self all  night!  I  imagined  all  sorts  of  dreadful 
things.  He  stumbled  into  a  pond,  which,  by 
good  luck,  wasn't  very  deep;  but  he  got  wet 
from  head  to  foot,  and  caught  a  bad  cold  wan- 
dering around  in  his  wet  clothes." 

"Is  he  here  now?"  I  asked,  a  little  uneasy, 
for,  though  I  didn't  think  he  would  recognize 
"Sniffles,"  I  didn't  care  to  meet  him. 

"Yes,  the  poor  fellow  is  asleep  on  the  settle  in 
the  kitchen.  I  only  hope  he  isn't  going  to  be  as 
sick  as  I  was.  But  I  want  to  thank  you  for  the 
good  news  you  sent  me.  Didn't  I  tell  you  Miss 
Warrington  would  listen  to  you?" 

I  thought  it  best  to  let  her  believe  it  was  sure, 
at  least,  until  I  had  spoken  to  Mr.  Warrington; 
and  I  was  thankful  that  Geoffrey  just  then  ran 
into  the  room  with  the  wiggling  caterpillar  be- 
tween his  thumb  and  forefinger. 

"See,  see,  Mees  Brenson!"  he  exclaimed,  and 
stuck  it  almost  into  my  face,  "see  hims  kick  on 
two  ends!" 

"Throw  it  away,"  I  commanded,  sharply,  for 
I  am  dreadfully  scared  of  caterpillars.  "Throw 
it  outdoors  and  then  shake  hands  with  Mrs. 
Makart." 

"You  must  not  speak  so  crossly  to  him,  Miss 
Brenson,"  she  said;  "I  cannot  allow  it.  Remem- 


SANDPEEP  327 

her  that  the  dear  lamb  does  not  understand 
everything  you  say  to  him." 

I  looked  at  her  in  surprise,  she  had  changed 
so  from  the  meek  little  mouse  of  a  woman  she 
was  at  first. 

"I  have  to  speak  that  way  to  him  when  I  want 
him  to  obey,"  I  answered,  very  dignified.  "He 
doesn't  mind  when  I  coax  him." 

"That  may  be;  I  will  not  allow  him  to  be 
ordered  about  as  if  he  were  a  horse,  or  a  dog! 
No  one  shall  correct  him  but  myself.  I  alone 
understand  how  to  manage  him.  He  shall  not 
be  forced  to  do  what  he  does  not  want  to  do." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  are  going  to  hinder 
his  father's  orders  from  being  carried  out,"  I 
said. 

"I  shall  find  a  way,"  she  answered,   shortly. 

I  thought  it  better  not  to  argue  with  her,  so  I 
said  calmly:  "When  you  have  charge  of  the  boy 
you  may  be  able  to  hinder  other  folks  from  tell- 
ing him  what  to  do;  but  while  he  is  in  my  care, 
I  must  do  what  I  was  hired  to  do,  or  I  sha'n't 
feel  as  if  I  were  earning  my  wages.  You  ought 
to  know  by  this  time  that  I  would  not  be  cruel 
to  him—" 

"I  do  —  I  do,"  she  interrupted,  in  a  different 
tone;  "I  know  how  kind,  how  patient,  you  are 
with  him,  dear  Miss  Brenson,  and  I  hope  you  will 
pardon  me  for  speaking  as  I  did.  My  temper 
is  so  quick,  and  I  can't  endure  to  have  anyone, 


328  SANDPEEP 

not  even  you,  you  dear,  good  girl,  speak  crossly 
to  my  baby." 

She  turned  toward  her  "baby,"  who  was  watch- 
ing the  caterpillar  "kick  on  two  ends,"  and  said 
something  to  him  in  French.  He  looked  at  her 
for  a  second,  his  black  eyes  wide  open;  then 
he  threw  the  caterpillar  out  the  door  and 
rushed  into  her  arms,  not  minding  in  the  least 
that  he  had  turned  over  a  little  table  with  a 
lot  of  things  on  it  —  a  work-basket,  books,  and 
a  little  box,  the  lid  of  which  burst  open  when  it 
struck  the  floor. 

I  stooped  to  pick  up  the  things,  which  were 
scattered  all  over  the  floor,  and  I  was  attracted 
by  a  card  that  had  fallen  out  of  the  box.  It  was 
the  photograph  of  two  very  pretty  girls,  standing 
side  by  side.  One  held  a  riding-whip  in  her 
hand;  the  other,  a  bunch  of  roses.  They  were 
dressed  exactly  alike,  in  very  short  frocks,  almost 
to  the  knees;  neck,  shoulders  and  arms  bare. 
They  looked  exactly  alike.  I  sat  back  on  my 
heels  and  said  to  Mrs.  Makart:  "These  young 
ladies  look  something  like  you  when  you  haven't 
got  on  —  you  know?"  pointing  to  my  hair  and 
eyes. 

"They  are  me!"  she  said;  and  she  smiled, 
keeping  her  arms  around  Geoffrey. 

"Both  of  them?  Why,  how  in  the  world 
could  the  picture-man  take  two  photographs  of 
you  at  once?" 


SANDPEEP  329 

"Two  of  my  photographs  were  placed  side  by 
side,  and  a  picture  taken  of  them." 

" Sure  enough!  I  never  thought  of  that.  When 
was  it  taken?" 

"A  long  time  ago;  I  was  only  fifteen  or  sixteen." 

"You  wore  very  short  dresses,"  I  allowed. 

"That  was  the  fashion  then." 

I  did  not  believe  that,  but  of  course  I  didn't 
tell  her  so.  I  said:  "This  looks  like  the  picture 
of  twins." 

"So  it  does,"  she  agreed,  and  held  out  her 
hand  for  it.  Before  I  gave  it  to  her,  I  turned  it 
over  and  read  what  was  printed  on  the  back  of 
it:  "Paris,"  and  the  name  of  the  photograph 
man.  Two  other  names  were  written  on  it  — 
"Angela  —  Angeline." 

"Is  that  your  name?"  I  asked. 

"Yes;  I  was  called  after  my  two  grand- 
mothers." 

"Angela,"  I  said,  watching  her  out  of  the 
corner  of  my  eye,  "was  the  name  of  the  lady 
who  came  to  our  house  with  Mr.  Warrington, 
that  stormy  night  long  ago.  Don't  you  remem- 
ber I  told  you  about  her?" 

"Yes;  but  you  did  not  tell  me  the  lady's 
name.  There  are  many  Angelas  in  the  world," 
she  allowed,  kissing  Geoffrey  again,  before  she 
let  him  run  outdoors.  I  was  perfectly  dis- 
gusted. I  got  up  from  the  floor,  and  standing 
in  front  of  her,  said  very  sternly: 


330  SANDPEEP 

"Look  here,  Mrs.  Makart,  what  is  the  use  pre- 
tending any  longer?  You  say  you  trust  me, 
when  all  the  time  you  are  trying  your  best  to 
make  me  believe  things  I  know  are  not  true. 
There  may  be  hundreds  of  Angelas  in  the  world, 
but  you  are  the  Angela  who  came  to  our  house 
with  Mr.  Warrington,  so  you  may  just  as  well 
stop  pretending  you  are  not.  What  made  you 
tell  me  you  were  married  in  a  church,  with  arti- 
ficials on  the  altar,  when  you  knew  that  I  knew 
you  weren't?  Why  did  you  say  you  never  were 
in  a  sailboat  until  I  carried  you  in  the  Keren  to 
see  my  aunt?  Why,  I  invited  you  to  go  home 
with  me,  just  because  I  wanted  you  to  tell  me 
you  remembered  Bunker's  Cove,  my  aunt  and 
my  father.  I  can  believe  that  you  have  for- 
gotten me,  though  how  you  could  forget  the  little 
girl  you  gave  your  ring  to  on  your  wedding 
morning,  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure." 

The  words  rushed  from  my  lips,  like  water 
from  a  pump-spout,  and  they  made  an  impres- 
sion. I  could  see  Mrs.  Makart' s  eyes  sparkle 
behind  the  blue  glass  specs,  and  she  seemed  to 
hold  her  breath,  as  if  she  were  afraid  she  might 
miss  hearing  a  word.  The  knuckles  of  her  fin- 
gers were  a  dead  white,  her  hands  were  clasped 
together  so  tightly. 

11  Do  you  imagine,"  I  went  on,^fast  as  before, 
for,  having  got  started,  I  thought  I  might  as  well 
let  her  know  my  opinion  of  her  silly  acting,  "that 


SANDPEEP  331 

I,  to  whom  so  little  has  happened,  could  forget 
what  formed  an  epoch  in  my  life?  I  remember 
every  single  thing  —  how  soaking  wet  you  were, 
with  the  rain  shining  in  your  hair  like  diamonds; 
how  funny  you  looked  in  aunt's  meeting-frock; 
how  pleased  you  were  with  the  bunch  of  flowers 
I  picked  for  you  —  for  'good  luck,'  you  said, 
and  gave  me  this  ring  —  that  morning  before 
you  started  to  the  Headlands." 

"The  —  the  Headlands?"  she  interrupted,  her 
breath  coming  fast,  and  with  her  clasped  hands 
pressed  against  her  breast. 

"Yes,  the  Headlands,  to  be  sure!  Oh,  /  re- 
member every  single  little  thing!  and  I  have 
written  it  all  down  in  a  book,  too,  so  that  if  the 
years  should  take  it  out  of  my  mind  I  shall  still 
have  the  record  of  it  I  can  believe  that  you 
don't  know  Mr.  Warrington  drew  a  picture  of 
me  that  morning,  for  you  were  still  in  bed  when 
he  did  it.  But  when  you  saw  the  picture  he  has 
painted  from  it,  the  one  Geoffrey  brought  to  my 
room  at  the  Lodge  the  other  day,  I  certainly 
expected  you  to  say  you  recognized  the  little 
sandy-haired  girl  who  had  given  you  flowers  on 
your  wedding-day.  But  you  pretended  you  had 
never  seen  her,  and  have  kept  on  pretending, 
until  I'm  sick  and  tired  of  it!  So  you  may 
just  as  well  own  up  from  now  on,  Mrs.  War- 
rington, for — " 

"Don't   call   me    that!"    she   interrupted.    "I 


332  SANDPEEP 

can't  tell  you  how  I  hate  the  name!  I  hate!  — 
hate!  —  hate  it!  As  for  my  pretending,  I  don't 
know  how  to  excuse  myself.  But,  please  — 
please  —  dear,  good,  kind  Miss  Brenson,  don't 
imagine  that  I  think  you  stupid  and  ignorant. 
I  think  you  are  the  best,  wisest,  dearest  girl  in 
the  whole  world!  Oh,  I  can't  tell  you  how 
much  I  owe  you !  Please  forgive  me  —  I  will  not 
deceive  you  any  more.  I  say  yes  —  yes  —  yes,  to 
everything.  I  have  had  to  be  so  careful  that  I 
don't  wonder  you  say  I  acted  strangely.  Though 
I  knew  I  could  trust  you,  I  was  afraid  to  tell  you 
everything  —  Andrew  is  so  terrible !  But,  if  he 
should  kill  me  for  it,  I  will  not  pretend  any  more 
to  you.  Yes  —  yes;  I  am  the  Angela  who  was 
at  your  house  that  stormy  night;  I  am  the  An- 
gela you  gave  the  pretty  flowers  to;  and  I  gave 
you  that  little  ring  for  good  luck!  Your  dear, 
good  father  took  me  and  Mr.  Warrington  to  the 
Headlands  in  your  beautiful  boat,  and  we  were 
married  by  —  let  me  see  ?  —  what  was  his  name  ? 
I  am  ashamed,  but  I  have  really  forgotten." 

She  wrinkled  her  forehead,  and  thought  and 
thought,  but  she  couldn't  remember. 

"  'Squire  Willetts,"  I  said. 

"Yes — yes — of  course  —  'Squire  Willetts !  How 
stupid  of  me  to  forget !  But  I  never  can  remember 
names!" 

I  might  have  told  her  about  the  certificate  with 
'Squire  Willetts's  name  signed  to  it,  but  I  didn't. 


SANDPEEP  333 

I  remembered  what  I  had  overheard  her  and 
Andrew  say  the  day  I  eavesdropped  in  the 
lane.  I  feel  quite  sure  that  no  one  but  Mr. 
Warrington  ought  to  have  it.  She  was  going  to 
speak  again,  but  just  then  we  heard  Andrew 
moving  about  in  the  kitchen. 

"There,"  I  said,  "your  brother  is  awake,  and 
may  want  you;  I'll  go  now."  She  let  me  go  with- 
out coaxing  me  to  stay  longer,  as  always  before. 
She  did  not  even  call  Geoffrey  in  to  bid  him 
good-bye.  She  was  as  anxious  to  be  rid  of  me  as 
I  was  to  go;  and  I  heard  her  talking  fast  to 
Andrew  before  I  was  well  out  of  the  door-yard. 
I  would  have  liked  to  hear  what  she  told  him. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

TV /HEN   I   got   back   to    the  Lodge,  I   left 

\W     Geoffrey    playing    with    Bonny    on    the 

terrace,  and  went  at  once  to  the  library, 

where  I  rang  the  bell  and  asked  James  to  tell 

Mr.  Warrington,  if  he  was  back  from  his  ride, 

that  I  would  like  to  speak  to  him  for  a  few 

minutes. 

He  came  in  very  soon  and  I  told  him  what  Dr. 
Parke  had  asked  me  to  do,  if  I  saw  the  tramp 
again. 

"Have  you  seen  him  again?"  he  asked,  draw- 
ing up  a  chair  for  me,  and  taking  one  himself. 

"Yes,  sir,  several  times." 

"Several  times?"  he  repeated,  and  the  wrinkle 
showed  between  his  eyebrows. 

"Yes,  sir;  at  the  cottage  and  at  —  another 
place." 

"At  Malston's  cottage,  do  you  mean?' 

"Yes,  sir.  Malston  isn't  his  true  name,  and 
the  tramp  is  his  brother." 

"Who  is  Malston,  and  why  is  he  masquerad- 
ing here  under  a  false  name?"  he  asked,  the 
wrinkle  deepening. 

"He  and  Andrew  —  that  is  the  tramp's  name 
—  are  brothers  to  your  —  to  Geoffrey's  mother." 


334 


SANDPEEP  335 

He  did  not  say  anything  for  a  minute,  only 
looked  very  sober.  Then  he  asked  me  if  I 
was  certain  that  what  I  had  told  him  was 
true. 

"I  am  quite  certain,"  I  answered  decidedly. 

"May  I  hear  how  you  learned  all  this?  Tell 
me  all  you  know  about  —  those  people  at  the 
cottage.  It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  I 
should  know  everything." 

"That  is  what  the  doctor  wrote,"  I  said. 
Then  I  told  him  everything  —  about  finding  the 
certificate  (which  he  did  not  seem  to  think  of 
much  importance);  about  Mrs.  Makart  climbing 
up  to  the  balcony  to  see  Geoffrey  and  why  Bonny 
hadn't  made  any  noise  when  he  saw  her;  about 
Andrew  hunting  for  an  important  paper  at  the 
Lodge;  about  seeing  Mrs.  Makart  without  the 
wig  and  blue  specs;  about  how  she  had  pre- 
tended she  had  never  been  in  a  sailboat,  or  seen 
my  aunt.  I  told  him  how  I  had  made  her  own 
up  to  being  at  our  house;  giving  me  the  ring; 
sailing  to  the  Headlands  in  the  Keren;  and  why 
I  had  asked  Miss  Warrington  to  give  her  a 
chance.  I  told  him  about  the  double  photo- 
graph; and  I  repeated  as  nearly  as  I  could 
remember,  the  conversation  I  had  listened  to  be- 
tween Mrs.  Makart  and"  Andrew.  I  told  him 
every  single  thing,  even  about  Andrew  getting 
a  ducking  in  the  lily-pond,  though  I  did  not 
mention  who  sent  him  into  it! 


336  SANDPEEP 

"How  did  you  learn  that  he  wanted  to  go  to 
North  Haven?" 

My  face  got  red  as  fire  when  he  asked  me  that 
so  suddenly.  "He  —  he  came  to  our  house  to 
ask  the  way,"  I  answered,  but  I  could  not  look 
at  him.  His  sharp  eyes  seemed  to  bore  right 
into  my  mind  for  what  I  did  not  want  him  to 
know. 

"Did  he  tell  you  his  errand  to  North  Haven?" 

"No,  sir,  of  course  not,  but  I  knew  it  wasn't 
for  any  good.  I  don't  think  he  feels  very  friendly 
toward  you,  Mr.  Warrington." 

"I  know  he  doesn't,"  he  answered,  and  smiled 
in  a  peculiar  way.  "And,  knowing  that  he  does 
not  feel  friendly  toward  me,  you  believed  he 
intended  to  waylay  and  perhaps  assault  me, 
which,  coming  so  unexpectedly  on  that  lonely 
road,  so  entirely  unprepared  as  I  was,  might 
have  resulted  disastrously  for  me?  I  under- 
stand now,  what  has  been  puzzling  me  ever 
since  that  exciting  moment  at  the  inlet  —  the 
great  difference  between  my  guide's  manner 
and  speech  then,  and  when  we  were  safe  on 
dry  land !  Your  disguise,  Miss  Brenson,  was  per- 
fect, but  your  concern  for  my  safety  betrayed 
you.  How  am  I  to  repay  such—" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Warrington,"  I  interrupted,  ashamed 
at   having   been   found   out,    "please   don't   say 
anything  about  paying  me  for  that.     Indeed,  it' 
wasn't  anything  to  show  you  the  old  shore-road, 


SANDPEEP  337 

for  I  know  it  as  well  as  I  do  our  own  door-yard. 
I  thought  it  safer,  because  I  was  afraid  Andrew 
might  have  found  out  he  wasn't  on  the  right  road, 
and  would  come  back.  Please,  Mr.  Warrington, 
don't  say  or  think  anything  more  about  it." 

Instead  of  answering  that  he  wouldn't,  he 
said:  "Your  courage  outweighs  your  prudence, 
Miss  Brenson;  suppose  you  had  encountered  the 
ruffian?" 

"Why,  I  did  encounter  him,"  I  answered, 
and  laughed;  "I  walked  by  his  side  for  a  mile 
or  more." 

"You  were  alone  with  him,  on  that  lonely 
road  ?  Good  God !  what  a  foolhardy  thing  to  do ! " 

He  threw  on  the  table  the  ivory  paper  knife  he 
had  been  turning  between  his  fingers,  got  up, 
and  stood  looking  down  at  me,  not  exactly  vexed. 
If  there  is  a  word  that  describes  vexed,  aston- 
ished, disapproval,  wonder,  then  that  is  the  word 
I  want.  I  wasn't  pleased  at  being  called  "fool- 
hardy," so  I  said: 

"I  don't  see  what  there  was  to  be  scared  of; 
he  didn't  know  me." 

"And  well  for  you  that  he  didn't!"  he  an- 
swered shortly,  and  walked  to  the  window,  where 
he  stood  for  a  minute  looking  out.  Then  he 
came  back,  sat  down  again  and  added:  "You 
may  not  see  anything  to  be  'scared  of  in  what 
you  did,  but  I  don't  believe  there  is  another  of 
your  sex  living  who  would  have  done  it." 


338  SANDPEEP 

"I  would  do  the  same  thing  over  again,  to 
keep  harm  from  coming  to  you  or  Miss  War- 
rington,"  I  told  him.  "It  is  the  only  way  I 
can  pay  you  for  all  your  kindness  to  me." 

"You  want  to  pay  us  for  our  kindness  to  you, 
yet  you  refuse  to  let  me  repay  you  for  having 
saved  my  life?" 

"Andrew  might  not  have  hurt  you,  sir," 
I  allowed,  though  I  felt  sure  he  would  have 
tried  to. 

"He  might  not  have  'hurt'  me,"  a  smile  light- 
ing his  sober  face  for  a  second;  "but  that  does 
not  alter  the  fact  that  I  am  deeply  indebted  to 
you,  and  I  refuse  to  remain  your  debtor,  as  you 
refuse  to  remain  mine!  Now,  tell  me  what  else 
you  have  learned  about  the  masqueraders  at  the 
cottage." 

"I  have  told  you  everything  I  know,  sir,"  I 
answered,  and  would  have  liked  to  say  again 
that  I  did  not  want  pay  for  what  I  had  done; 
but  he  seemed  so  "sot"  on  it,  I  thought  it  best 
not  to  argue  with  him,  then;  I  could  tell  Miss 
Warrington  I  would  not  accept  anything. 

"I  don't  believe  you  would  have  told  me  what 
you  have,  if  the  doctor  had  not  requested  it, 
would  you?"  he  asked,  after  a  minute. 

"I  did  not  want  to  tell  you,  sir;  but  when 
I  heard  that  the  doctor  was  not  coming  back,  I 
had  to." 

"Why  didn't  you  want  to  tell  me,  may  I  ask?" 


SANDPEEP  339 

"Well  —  I  would  rather  have  told  the  doctor, 
because  I  am  better  acquainted  with  him.  I 
have  known  him  ever  since  I  was  a  tiny 
girl." 

"I  see.  I  hope  you  feel  well  enough  acquainted 
with  me  now  to  do  something  else  for  me.  As 
our  good  friend  the  doctor  is  not  here  to  stand 
by  me,  I  shall  have  to  depend  on  your  help 
until  the  detectives  I  shall  send  for  immediately, 
arrive.  My  aunt  and  cousin  must  be  kept  in 
ignorance  until  the  detectives  are  here.  So  let 
matters  go  on  precisely  as  heretofore.  Above 
all,  don't  let  the  people  at  the  cottage  suspect 
that  I  have  learned  who  they  are." 

"They  shan't  find  it  out  from  me,  sir,"  I 
answered;  and,  because  he  was  so  very  kind  and 
pleasant,  exactly  as  if  he  were  talking  to  his  aunt 
or  his  cousin,  I  made  bold  to  say:  "Please  ex- 
cuse me,  Mr.  Warrington,  but  don't  you  think  a 
better  way  to  settle  the  matter  for  good  and  all, 
would  be  to  make  up  your  quarrel  with  Geof- 
frey's mother?  I  don't  believe  Andrew  would 
want  to  harm  you  if  you  were  good  friends  again 
with  his  sister." 

"I  don't  think  that  would  be  the  best  way  to 
settle  the  matter  for  'good  and  all,"  he  an- 
swered, and  he  got  up  from  his  chair.  "I  shall 
send  for  the  detectives  at  once,  and  until  they 
arrive,  do  you  keep  a  close  watch.  Don't  let 
anyone  suspect  our  secret." 


340  SANDPEEP 

Just  then  his  cousin  came  into  the  library 
from  the  veranda.  From  the  strange  way  she 
looked,  first  at  him,  and  then  at  me,  I  knew 
she  had  heard  his  last  words. 

"Have  you  forgotten,  Brian,  that  you  chal- 
lenged me  to  a  game  of  billiards  before  din- 
ner?" she  said  sharply. 

"No,  I  was  just  coming,"  he  answered,  and 
seemed  not  to  mind  being  spoken  to  in  that  way. 
To  me  he  said,  just  as  pleasantly  as  he  had 
spoken  to  her,  "I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you, 
Miss  Brenson.  You  may  rest  assured  the  matter 
will  be  attended  to  at  once." 

Then,  as  I  have  often  seen  him  do  for  his  aunt 
and  the  other  ladies  in  the  house,  he  walked  be- 
side me  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and  stood  with 
his  hand  on  the  knob  until  I  had  passed  out  of 
the  room.  I  did  not  mind  his  cousin's  black 
looks  after  that! 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

GEOFFREY  and  I  were  on  our  way  to 
lessons,  the  next  morning,  when  Miss 
Warrington  came  to  the  door  of  her  sit- 
ting-room, and  said  she  wanted  to  speak  to  me. 
I  sent  Geoffrey  on  to  the  tower  with  Bonny  and 
went  in. 

"I  shall  detain  you  only  a  few  minutes,"  she 
began  as  soon  as  the  door  was  shut,  in  a  way  she 
had  never  spoken  to  me  before  —  very  short  and 
cross.  "I  am  going  to  ask  you  a  few  questions 
and  I  want  you  to  answer  them  with  frankness 
and  truthfulness.  What  is  the  private  matter 
you  were  discussing  with  my  nephew  yesterday 
afternoon  in  the  library?" 

"Mrs.  Warrington  has  been  blabbing,"  I  said 
to  myself  before  I  answered:  "Please,  Miss  War- 
rington, don't  ask  me,  for  I  can't  tell  you." 

"You  can't  tell  me?  What  sort  of  secret  is  it 
you  can  share  with  my  nephew  and  not  with 
me?" 

"Really,  dear  Miss  Warrington,  I  can't  tell 
you." 

She  shook  her  head  impatiently,  and  said: 
"Then  I  shall  have  to  ask  my  nephew.  I  am 
greatly  disappointed  hi  you,  Miss  Brenson,  and 

341 


342  SANDPEEP 

deeply  grieved,"  she  said  after  a  minute,  and 
looked  at  me  in  a  way  that  nearly  made  the 
tears  come  to  my  eyes.  "I  trusted  you  entirely, 
believed  you  so  truthful — " 

"You  have  no  call  to  think  me  untruthful, 
Miss  Warrington,"  I  interrupted,  looking  straight 
at  her;  "I  do  not  tell  lies"  -  "only  to  the  mas- 
queraders  at  the  cottage,"  I  added  to  myself. 

"I  do  not  accuse  you  of  telling  lies;  only  of 
withholding  your  confidence  from  me.  It  grieves 
me  more  than  I  can  say  to  be  forced  to  change 
my  opinion  of  you.  I  hoped  to  part  differently 
from  you." 

"Part  from  me?"  I  repeated,  and  my  heart 
seemed  to  stop  beating  for  a  second.  Though 
I  knew  she  would  go  away  some  time,  I  didn't 
expect  it  would  be  so  soon.  "Are  you  going 
away  to-day?" 

"In  a  few  days,"  she  told  me. 

"I  —  am  very  —  sorry."  I  had  to  swallow 
hard  before  I  could  add:  "You  have  been  very 
kind  to  me;  I  shall  miss  you  more  than  I  can 
say.  Will  Mr.  Warrington  go  with  you?" 

"Certainly,"  she  answered,  very  shortly. 

"I  am  very  glad  — " 

"Glad?"  she  interrupted,  and  looked  at  me 
sharply;  "you  are  glad  he  is  going  to  leave  you? 
My  dear  child,"  laying  her  hand  on  mine,  and 
speaking  more  kindly,  "I  wish  you  would  trust 
me  —  confide  in  me." 


SANDPEEP  343 

"  Please,  please,  dear  Miss  Warrington,  don't 
ask  me  to  tell  you.  I  can't  —  I  must  not  —  I 
promised  I  wouldn't." 

"You  promised  you  would  not?  My  dear 
child,"  she  said  again,  in  the  old  kind  way  —  it 
made  the  tears  come  to  my  eyes  —  "believe  me, 
I  want  to  be  your  friend  and  do  what  is  best  for 
your  happiness,  now,  and  in  the  years  to  come. 
You  are  a  young,  inexperienced  girl,  wholly  ig- 
norant of  the  world  and  of  the  ways  of  the  men 
of  the  world.  Believe  me,  it  is  not  well  for  you 
to  have  a  secret  that  my  nephew  may  share  with 
you  and  I  may  not." 

It  was  very  hard  to  keep  my  promise,  and  I 
don't  know  how  that  painful  talk  would  have 
ended,  if  Mr.  Warrington  had  not  come  into  the 
room. 

"Pardon  me,  aunt,  but  Ju  and  I  are  ready 
and  waiting  for  you,"  he  said,  after  a  quick 
glance  toward  me.  "We  shall  have  to  start 
immediately,  if  we  want  to  get  to  the  Head- 
lands before  the  boat  leaves." 

"I  will  be  ready  in  a  moment,"  she  answered, 
in  a  way  I  have  never  heard  her  speak  to  him 
before.  Then  she  said  to  me: 

"We  will  finish  our  conversation  when  I  re- 
turn, Miss  Brenson." 

Mr.  Warrington  was  leaving  the  room  with  me, 
but  his  aunt  called  sharply: 

"I  want  to  speak  to  you,  Brian." 


344  SANDPEEP 

He  closed  the  door  after  me,  and  I  came  up 
to  my  room,  my  heart  so  heavy  that  my  footsteps 
dragged. 


After  luncheon  I  met  Agnes  coming  toward 
my  room  with  her  sewing-basket  and  a  bundle  of 
rags  on  her  arm. 

"Oh,  are  you  going  out  already?"  she  said, 
and  looked  greatly  disappointed.  "I  was  going 
to  ask  you  to  please  show  me  how  to  start  the 
rug  you  told  me  and  Janet  about  the  other 
day." 

"I  can  show  you  in  a  few  minutes;  come  in," 
I  answered,  and  went  back  into  my  room  with 
her,  after  I  had  called  to  Geoffrey  to  wait  for  me 
on  the  terrace. 

He  was  nowhere  in  sight  when,  not  more  than 
ten  minutes  later,  I  ran  down  to  the  tower-door. 
I  thought,  of  course,  that  he  had  gone  on  to  the 
cottage,  and  hurried  after  him,  calling  his  name. 
But  no  Geoffrey  was  to  be  seen  or  heard,  in  the 
avenue  or  in  the  lane,  nor  even  a  bark,  which  I 
thought  very  strange,  for  when  Bonny  and  his 
little  master  are  chasing  a  rabbit,  or  a  squirrel, 
there's  plenty  of  noise,  barks  and  shouts! 

"Geoffrey  beat  me  here  this  time!"  I  gasped, 
almost  out  of  breath,  when  I  got  to  the  cottage 
door,  which  was  wide  open.  Of  course  I  was 
sure  I  should  find  him  there. 


SANDPEEP  345 

"He  isn't  here,"  Mrs.  Makart  answered,  com- 
ing out  to  the  stoop. 

"Maybe  he  is  with  Andrew  in  the  back  yard," 
I  said,  getting  scared,  though  I  didn't  let  her 
see  it. 

"Andrew  is  not  at  home,"  she  answered,  and 
I  could  see  that  she  was  uneasy,  too.  "What 
can  have  become  of  my  boy?" 

"I  dare  say  he  is  playing  somewhere  along  the 
road,"  I  allowed,  speaking  carelessly.  "I'll  go 
back  and  hunt  him  up." 

"I  will  go  with  you  — " 

"But  you  are  not  well  enough,"  I  interrupted, 
for  I  would  rather  have  gone  without  her. 

"I  can  stand  going  with  you  better  than  I 
could  the  waiting  here  —  come!"  and  she  was 
out  of  the  door-yard  before  I  could  say  another 
word.  We  called,  and  called,  and  called,  stop- 
ping now  and  then  to  listen.  Mrs.  Makart  got 
so  excited,  she  had  to  lean  on  my  arm.  Her 
heart  beat  against  it  like  a  trip-hammer.  I 
don't  know  what  she  feared.  /  was  sure  that 
Andrew  had  something  to  do  with  the  boy's 
disappearance. 

We  met  Reuben  Wasgott  at  the  Lodge  gates, 
and  asked  him  if  he  had  seen  Geoffrey. 

"Yes  —  I  see  him  'n'  the  big  dog  'bout  half 
'n  hour  ago,  runnin'  toward  the  cliff-path — " 

We  didn't  wait  to  hear  anything  more,  but  ran 
up  the  avenue  as  fast  as  Mrs.  Makart  could  go. 


346  SANDPEEP 

I  wanted  her  to  sit  down  and  let  me  go  on  by 
myself,  but  she  held  onto  my  arm.  I  was  afraid 
every  minute  she  would  fall  down  in  a  faint  or 
a  fit,  she  breathed  so  hard  and  fast.  How  I 
managed  to  get  her  down  the  cliff-path  without 
falling,  I  can't  see.  I  had  to  half  carry  her.  I 
was  dreadfully  scared  when  I  found  that  the 
dory  wasn't  on  the  beach,  for  I  knew  how  Geof- 
frey liked  to  go  out  in  the  "push-boat."  I  called 
his  name  loud  as  I  could  scream,  but  only  the 
echo  from  the  cliff  called  back:  "Geoffrey? 
Geoffrey?" 

"Oh,  Holy  Mother  of  Christ!"  Mrs.  Makart 
shrieked  suddenly,  and  pointed  toward  the  water, 
where,  away  out,  about  two  miles  from  the  shore, 
the  dory  just  then  rose  to  the  crest  of  a  big  wave. 
We  could  see  two  heads  in  it  —  Geoffrey's  and 
Bonny's,  of  course.  It  was  all  that  I  could  do  to 
prevent  Mrs.  Makart  from  jumping  into  the 
water. 

"Let  me  go  —  let  me  go!"  she  screamed,  and 
tried  to  free  herself.  "Don't  you  see  that  he 
will  drown?  Oh,  God!  my  baby  —  my  baby!" 

"How  could  you  help  him,  if  I  let  you  jump 
into  the  water  and  drown  yourself?"  I  asked, 
holding  her  fast,  though  she  struck  me  with  her 
fists,  and  even  tried  to  bite  my  hands.  What  to 
do  I  could  not  think.  The  row-boat  had  been 
sent  to  North  Haven  to  be  painted,  so  there  was 
no  way  to  get  to  the  sloop. 


SANDPEEP  347 

Never,  in  all  my  life,  have  I  heard  any  human 
being  scream  so  dreadfully;  and  all  the  time  she 
kept  beating  me  with  her  fists  and  trying  to 
break  away  from  me.  I  don't  know  how  much 
longer  I  could  have  stood  it  if  help  hadn't  come. 
It  was  Andrew,  who  came  down  the  cliff-path 
in  two  jumps  it  seemed  to  me,  and,  scared  as  I 
was  of  him,  I  was  thankful  when  he  caught  the 
struggling  woman  from  my  arms  and  clasped  her 
in  his  own. 

"What  have  you  been  trying  to  do,  you  hell- 
cat?" he  shouted,  and  glared  at  me. 

Before  I  could  tell  him  what  had  happened, 
she  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  moaned, 
"Oh,  Andrew!  my  baby  —  our  boy!" 

"What  has  happened  to  the  boy?  What  have 
you  done  to  him?"  Andrew  asked,  and  I  guess 
he  would  have  come  at  me  with  his  fists  or  a 
pistol,  if  he  had  not  had  all  he  could  do  to  hold 
the  fainting  woman. 

"I  haven't  done  anything  to  him;  he  is  out  in 
that  dory,"  I  answered,  and  pointed  toward  it. 

"Mother  of  God!  Who  is  with  him?  —  where 
are  they  taking  him?  Tell  me  the  truth  or  I'll 

throttle  you, — !"  Those  dashes  are  the 

dreadful  swear  words  he  used. 

"Nobody  is  with  him  —  only  Bonny  — " 

"What?"  he  shouted  —  it  was  like  the  bellow- 
ing of  a  bull  —  "Who  sent  him  out  there  to 
drown?  You?" 


348  SANDPEEP 

He  came  toward  me,  the  woman  on  one  arm, 
the  other  raised  to  strike  me.  But  he  didn't; 
why,  I  don't  know,  for  I  just  stood  still  and 
looked  straight  into  his  fierce  eyes. 

"Nobody  sent  him  out  there  to  drown,  you 
bad,  wicked  man!  He  went  out  of  his  own 
accord;  he  ran  away  from  me — " 

"You  lie !     You  sent  him,  my  son,  out 

to  drown  — " 

"Your  son,"  I  interrupted.  "Did  you  say 
your  son?" 

The  part  of  his  face  which  is  not  covered 
by  beard,  got  red  as  fire,  and  he  bit  his  lip, 
before  he  answered  —  defiantly,  I  think,  is  the 
word  to  use: 

"Yes,  my  son!  —  my  pride!  —  my  idol!" 

"Your  very  own  son?"  I  asked  again,  for  I 
could  not  believe  he  really  meant  what  he  said. 

"  Yes  —  yes  —  yes  I  my  son,  and  not  that 
damned  aristocrat's  up  yonder.  You  had  no 
need  to  murder  the  boy,  you  she-devil!  he  isn't 
the  son  of  your  lover — " 

"You  say  what  isn't  true,"  I  interrupted;  and 
I  let  him  see  I  was  offended.  "I  wouldn't  harm 
the  boy  for  the  world,  and  Mr.  Warrington  is 
not  my  lover.  If  you  will  tell  me  the  truth 
and  swear  that  the  boy  is  your  own  son,  I  will 
try  to  save  him." 

"Oh,  yes,  you'll  save  him!"  he  snarled,  just 
like  an  angry  dog  with  a  bone. 


SANDPEEP  349 

"Yes,  I  will.  I  will  try,  anyway,  and  I  think  I 
can  do  it.  But  you  must  tell  first:  Is  Geoffrey 
really  and  truly  your  son  —  your  own  flesh  and 
blood?" 

"  Yes  —  yes  —  yes ! " 

" Swear  it!" 

"I  swear  it,  by  God  in  heaven;  by  all  the 
devils  in  hell!"  he  said,  holding  up  his  hand. 

"Then  who  is  she?"  —  pointing  toward  Mrs. 
Makart. 

"My  wife." 

"Fwrwife?" 

"Yes  —  I  swear  it!  Save  our  boy,  and  we 
will  make  a  clean  breast  of  everything;  only 
save  the  boy,  if  you  can!" 

"I  must  know  something  more  before  I  risk 
my  life  to  save  your  son,"  I  said  firmly.  "If 
this  woman  is  your  wife,  where  is  Mr.  Warring- 
ton's  wife?" 

"She  is  dead,"  he  answered,  after  a  look  at 
the  dory,  which  was  only  a  black  spot  on  the 
water  then. 

"Really  and  truly?" 

"Mother  of  God!  Yes — yes,  I  swear  it!  She 
and  her  baby  died  the  same  day.  She  was  my 
Lina's  twin  sister.  Now  you  know  everything; 
save  my  boy,  and  I  will  give  you  a  sworn  state- 
ment that  what  I  have  told  you  is  true.  But," 
and  he  shook  his  fist  in  my  face,  "don't  you 
come  back  without  him!" 


350  SANDPEEP 

While  talking  to  him,  I  had  planned  what  to 
do.  I  began  at  once  to  roll  the  drift-log  which 
was  lying  on  the  shore  toward  the  water.  When 
he  saw  what  I  was  about,  he  laid  the  unconscious 
woman  on  a  tangle  of  beach-peas  and  drift,  and 
came  to  help  me. 

"You  don't  intend  to  paddle  after  the  boat  on 
that  log,  do  you?"  he  asked  when  it  was  in  the 
water,  and  I  had  begun  to  take  off  my  shoes 
and  stockings. 

"Yes  I  do,"  I  answered,  and  I  picked  up  a 
piece  of  board  lying  near  "  Now,  please  turn 
your  back  toward  me." 

He  did  so;  I  waded  into  the  water  and  got 
a-straddle  of  the  log.  Lucky  for  me  it  was  big 
and  heavy,  or  I  don't  know  if  I  could  have  pad- 
dled out  to  the  sloop  on  it. 

"Damn  my  soul!  if  you  aren't  a  brave 
wench!"  I  heard  Andrew  exclaim,  before  I  was 
half  way  to  the  sloop.  He  was  too  curious  to 
see  what  I  was  doing  to  keep  his  back  turned 
toward  me. 

It  did  not  take  very  long,  though  I  was 
afraid  every  minute  the  log  would  roll  over,  and 
tumble  me  into  the  water,  to  get  to  the  sloop, 
and  hoist  sail.  The  wind  was  in  the  right  direc- 
tion to  carry  me  out  to  sea,  and  away  I  sailed, 
away  out,  past  the  ledges,  after  the  black  speck 
among  the  waves,  which  grew  larger  the  farther 
I  sailed  from  shore.  Both  wind  and  current  were 


SANDPEEP  351 

in  my  favor,  and  I  felt  certain  I  could  save  the 
boy,  if  he  would  only  keep  still  in  the  bottom  of 
the  dory.  If  he  should  try  to  stand  up  or  move 
about,  though  the  boat  was  riding  the  waves  like 
a  buoy,  there  would  be  danger  of  his  tilting  over- 
board. So  I  could  only  hope  he  was  too  sea- 
sick to  do  anything  but  lie  flat  in  the  bottom  of 
the  dory.  If  I  had  not  caught  up  with  him,  I 
should  have  continued  to  sail  on,  far  enough, 
anyhow,  to  be  safe  from  Andrew's  fists  and 
pistol.  I  knew  very  well  what  would  happen  to 
me  if  I  went  back  without  the  boy! 

After  what  seemed  hours  and  hours,  I  got 
close  enough  to  see  that  the  boy  and  his  dog 
were  lying  in  the  bottom,  both  too  sick  to  pay 
attention  to  the  flapping  sail  when  I  stopped  to 
hook  the  painter.  Only  Bonny  opened  his  eyes 
for  a  second,  too  sick  to  wag  his  tail.  Geoffrey 
was  white  as  chalk. 

The  sea  was  too  rough  to  change  him  to  the 
sloop,  so  I  towed  the  dory  back  to  the  cove.  I 
had  to  tack  often,  for  wind  and  tide  were  against 
me  now;  but  I  did  not  care  how  long  it  might 
take  to  get  back.  I  had  what  I  had  come  for, 
and  my  heart  was  singing,  "Hallelujah  to  the 
Lord!"  I  was  so  thankful,  not  only  that  the 
boy  was  safe,  but  because  I  knew  Miss  Warring- 
ton  would  find  out  all  about  the  "secret,"  and 
would  be  good  friends  with  me  again,  and  Mr. 
Warrington  would  be  safe  from  Andrew,  and  free 


352  SANDPEEP 

to  marry  his  cousin.  I  am  not  so  sure  that  I 
was  thankful  for  that! 

When  I  sailed  around  Surgecliff,  Andrew  and 
his  wife  were  standing  side  by  side  near  the 
water.  "He  is  all  right,"  I  called  to  them 
through  my  hands,  and  I  did  not  look  toward 
shore  again  until  the  sloop  was  at  her  anchorage. 
Then  I  saw  that  the  woman  was  alone,  and  with- 
out the  gray  wig  and  blue  specs. 

"Why,  Mrs.  Makart,  or  whatever  your  name  is 
now,"  I  said,  when  I  had  run  the  dory  up  on  to  the 
beach,  "you  haven't  got  on  your  wig  and  specs." 

"No,  and  I  don't  intend  to  put  them  on  ever 
again,"  she  answered  decidedly.  "See  how  my 
boy  looks  at  me!  At  last  the  dear  angel  knows 
me."  She  caught  him  in  her  arms  when  he 
jumped  toward  her,  crying:  "Petite  maman! 
Petite  mamml"  and  she  nearly  smothered  him 
with  kisses. 

When  she  was  done  kissing  him,  he  looked  all 
around  him,  as  if  he  expected  to  see  someone 
else.  "Mon  cher  papa?"  he  said,  and  looked  up 
at  her.  "I  want  to  see  mon  cher  papa,  too.  I 
come  back  over  the  big  water  to  see  hims  and 
Gerry  and  Tulips." 

"Wait  —  wait,  only  a  little  while,  my  an^l," 
she  answered,  kissing  him  again.  "You  shall 
see  the  dear  papa,  and  Gerry  and  your  beautiful 
Tulips,  very  soon.  Very  soon  you  shall  ride 
with  Gerry  on  Tulips — " 


SANDPEEP  353 

"And  hims  will  stand  on  his  back  legs,  so,"  he 
interrupted,  his  eyes  shining  like  stars;  and  he 
stood  on  his  toes  and  stretched  his  arms  above 
his  head,  "and  mon  chcr  papa  will  jump,  away 
high  up;  and  Gerry  will  stand  on  Tulips' s  back, 
and  jump  through  fire;  and  petite  ttMnuin  will 
dance  on  Tulips' s  back  —  yes  —  yes  —  I  come 
back  over  the  big  water  to  see  hims." 

I  had  never  heard  him  make  such  a  long 
speech.  He  talked  so  fast  and  his  eyes  sparkled 
so  that  he  did  not  look  like  the  same  dull  boy; 
and  no  one  who  had  seen  him  then  would  have 
doubted  that  he  was  Mrs.  Makart's  son,  he 
looked  so  exactly  like  her.  I  dare  say  it  is  be- 
cause the  boy  is  so  like  his  mother  that  Mr. 
Warrington,  who  believes  Mrs.  Makart  is  his  wife 
and  dislikes  her  so  much,  does  not  seem  as  fond 
of  him  as  most  fathers  are  of  their  children. 

"The  dear  angel  really  believes  he  has  crossed 
the  ocean  again,"  his  mother  allowed,  and  looked 
fondly  at  the  delighted  boy.  "After  all  your 
trouble  to  make  him  forget,  you  have  not  suc- 
ceeded. He  has  not  forgotten  his  petite  w<im<i«, 
who  dances  on  the  back  of  a  galloping  horse,  or 
his  dear  papa,  who  makes  the  wonderful  leaps 
from  the  trapeze"  -  I  had  to  hunt  up  that  word 
in  the  dictionary  before  I  understood  why  An- 
drew's "leaps"  were  wonderful  —  "or  his  uncle 
Gerry,  who  jumps  through  fiery  hoops.  He  has 
forgotten  nothing,  my  brave,  beautiful  Gervase  - 


354  SANDPEEP 

"Yes  —  yes!"  he  interrupted,  clapping  his 
hands  and  jumping  about,  "Gervase,  Gervase 

—  not   Geoffrey  —  me   Gervase  —  yes  —  yes." 
She   kissed   and   hugged   him   again;    then   I 

asked  her  if  Andrew  was  really  her  husband. 

"He  is,  indeed,  really  my  own  dear  husband, 
the  most  daring  and  celebrated  performer  on  the 
trapeze  in  the  world!  He  is  my  husband,  and 
Gervase  is  our  boy.  I  don't  care  who  knows  it 
now.  I  don't  want  any  more  of  Mr.  Warring- 
ton's  money;  it  only  made  me  unhappy.  Now, 

—  oh,   I    am    so  happy!    I  have   got  back  my 
precious  baby." 

"Tell  me  something  about  your  twin  sister  — 
did  she  really  die?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  poor  dear  Angela  is  dead,  and  so  is  her 
dear  little  baby  boy.  My  poor,  broken-hearted 
sister!  But  don't  ask  me  any  more  questions 
now,  dear,  good,  brave  Miss  Brenson.  After  I 
am  rested  —  I  am  so  weak  and  faint  now  after 
my  terrible  fright  —  I  will  tell  you  everything, 
and  the  truth!  Now,  I  must  go  to  the  cottage. 
Come,  my  angel." 

"But,"  I  interrupted,  "what  shall  I  tell  Mr. 
Warrington  ?  " 

"Nothing  —  nothing  yet!  Wait,  I  will  tell  him 
myself,  this  evening.  Tell  him  to  come  to  the 
cottage  after  he  has  had  his  dinner,  and  he  shall 
hear  everything." 

"Will  Andrew  be  there?" 


SANDPEEP  355 

"Yes,  and  my  brother,  Gervase  —  all  of  us. 
We  shall  have  much   to  tell  Mr.  Warrington  - 
much  to  ask  forgiveness  for.     We  will  pay  back 
all  the  money  he  gave  us,  but  in  time  —  in  time. 
We  shall  have  to  work  for  it  first." 

"Very  well,"  I  said,  "I'll  tell  him  you  want 
him  to  call  this  evening,  after  dinner.  But  I 
really  think  you  ought  to  let  the  boy  go  with 
me  to  the  Lodge  — " 

"No,"  she  interrupted,  putting  her  arm  around 
him  and  holding  him  close,  "I  will  not  let  him 
go  out  of  my  sight  again!  They  will  not  miss 
him  at  the  Lodge.  You  can  make  some  excuse 
if  they  do.  He  shall  not  go  there  again!" 

We  were  walking  toward  the  cliff-path  when  I 
spied  the  wig  lying  beside  a  rock,  looking  for 
all  the  world  like  a  gray  pussy-cat  snuggled 
among  the  wrack.  I  picked  it  up,  and  said: 
"Don't  you  want  to  take  this  with  you?" 

"No,  hateful  thing!"  —  snatching  it  from  my 
hand  and  tossing  it  into  the  water.  "No  more 
disguises  —  no  more  cheating  for  me!" 

She  didn't  look  very  weak  the  way  she  hurried 
up  the  cliff-path,  half  dragging,  half  carrying  the 
boy.  I  followed  more  slowly,  and  when  I  got 
to  the  top  they  were  already  out  of  sight.  It 
was  well  she  could  go  so  fast,  for  it  was  begin- 
ning to  rain  hard. 

I  came  up  to  my  cozy  room  —  so  soon  to  be 
mine  no  longer!  How  I  shall  miss  everything  in 


356  SANDPEEP 

it  when  I  am  back  in  my  closet  at  home!  And 
that  blessed  piano!  I  wish  it  were  mine  to  take 
with  me;  but  there  isn't  room  for  it  in  the  house. 
I  should  have  to  keep  it  in  the  hen-pen! 

Well,  I  shall  have  something  to  think  about  in 
the  long  winter  evenings.  The  memory  of  my 
days  at  the  Lodge  will  be  like  a  pleasant  dream, 
a  bit  of  sunshine  among  gray  clouds;  sweet 
music  in  the  storm;  the  clear  song  of  a  swamp- 
robin  among  the  hoarse  caw-caws  of  crows. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

I  WAS  telling  secrets  to  my  faithful  book  yes- 
terday evening,  when  Janet  came  to  my 
room  for  Geoffrey.  I  told  her  he  would 
have  to  stay  with  Mrs.  Makart  until  Malston 
went  for  him  with  the  buggy,  as  it  was  raining 
too  hard  for  him  to  walk  home. 

"I  am  afraid  his  father  will  not  like  your  leav- 
ing him  at  the  cottage,  Miss,"  she  said. 

"Has  Mr.  Warrington  come  back  yet?"  I 
asked. 

"Yes,  Miss,  just  a  few  minutes  ago.  They 
got  a  good  drenching.  If  I  were  you,  Miss,  I 
would  not  say  anything  about  Master  Geoffrey 
staying  at  the  cottage.  If  it  rains  too  hard  for 
him  to  come  home  this  evening,  you  can  fetch 
him  in  the  morning  before  any  of  the  family  are 
up.  Miss  Warrington  won't  miss  him,  for  she's 
gone  to  bed  with  a  sick  headache;  and  you  may 
be  sure,"  she  added,  and  laughed  slyly,  "that 
his  father  and  the  pretty  widow  won't  miss  him, 
either." 

"Very  well,"  I  said,  pretending  I  agreed  with 
her,  "if  Malston  does  not  fetch  him  home  this 
evening,  I  will  do  as  you  say."  "By  morning," 
I  said  to  myself,  "everybody  will  know  why 

357 


358  SANDPEEP 

'Master  Geoffrey'  is  not  at  the  Lodge."  When  I 
explained  to  the  housekeeper,  she  said  I  had  done 
well  to  leave  him  at  the  cottage  until  the  storm 
was  over;  so  there  was  only  Mr.  Warrington  to 
be  told,  and  I  went  straight  from  Mrs.  Gilbert's 
room  to  the  front  hall,  to  give  him  Mrs.  Makart's 
message  when  he  should  come  from  the  dining- 
room.  I  had  to  wait  a  long  time.  I  could  hear 
him  and  his  cousin  talk  and  laugh,  and  knew 
they  were  not  bothering  their  heads  about  the 
missing  boy. 

At  last  the  dining-room  door  opened,  but  only 
Mrs.  Warrington  came  out.  She  stopped  in  the 
door  to  say:  "Now,  don't  let  your  cigar  keep 
you  long,  Brian;  I  want  my  revenge  for  that 
game  you  won  last  night."  I  hoped  she  would 
not  notice  me  in  the  dark  corner  beside  the 
clock,  but  she  did,  and  asked  what  I  was 
waiting  for.  I  told  her  I  had  a  message  for 
Mr.  Warrington. 

"You  seem  to  have  a  good  many  messages  for 
Mr.  Warrington,"  she  allowed,  and  added:  "My 
good  girl,  I  advise  you  to  take  your  messages  to 
Miss  Warrington.  I  should  like  to  believe,  as 
she  does,  that  it  is  through  ignorance  you  force 
yourself  upon  the  notice  of  gentlemen  in  so 
shameless  a  manner,  but  I  cannot  —  I  have  seen 
too  much  — " 

Just  then  the  door  at  the  back  of  the  hall 
opened,  and  the  head  coachman  came  in,  rain- 


SANDPEEP  359 

water  streaming  from  his  hat  and  rubber  coat. 
Almost  at  the  same  moment  Mr.  Warrington 
came  from  the  dining-room,  and  said: 

"What  is  it,  Donald?  James  says  you  want 
to  speak  to  me  on  important  business." 

"I  do,  sir.  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me  for 
disturbing  you  while  at  dinner,  but  I  think  you 
ought  to  know  that  Malston  has  gone.  He  has 
not  been  at  the  stables  since  noon." 

"He  may  be  at  the  cottage,  ill." 

"No,  sir,  he  isn't  there.  I  sent  William  to 
see  as  soon  as  I  found  that  the  bays  were  not  in 
their  stalls—" 

"The  bays?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Warrington,  the 
wrinkle  showing  above  his  nose. 

"Yes,  sir,  they  and  the  road-wagon  are  gone, 
and  there  isn't  anybody  at  the  cottage  — " 

"Nobody  at  the  cottage?"  I  interrupted,  too 
excited  to  mind  Mrs.  Warrington's  stare.  "Are 
you  sure  there  isn't  anybody  there?"  . 

"Quite  sure,  Miss,"  Donald  answered  respect- 
fully, though  I  could  see  he  was  surprised  at  my 
meddling.  "William  knocked  several  times  and 
tried  the  door.  It  wasn't  locked,  but  there  was 
no  light,  and  nobody  in  the  house." 

"I  have  no  doubt,"  Mr.  Warrington  allowed, 
after  a  quick  look  toward  me,  "  that  Malston 
took  advantage  of  our  absence  this  afternoon,  to 
give  his  sister  an  outing,  and  is  detained  some- 
where by  this  storm." 


360  SANDPEEP 

"That  may  be,  sir/'  Donald  said,  "but  it  isn't 
at  all  like  him  to  take  a  team  without  asking 
leave." 

"When  was  William  at  the  cottage?"  I  asked, 
and  if  looks  could  hurt,  Mrs.  Warrington's  cer- 
tainly would  have  done  something  to  me.  But  I 
had  too  much  else  to  think  of  to  mind. 

"He  came  back  just  a  few  minutes  ago,  Miss." 
Then,  before  I  could  say  what  was  on  my  tongue, 
he  turned  to  Mr.  Warrington.  "Don't  you  think, 
sir,  I  had  better  send  a  man  to  the  Headlands  to 
make  inquiries?" 

Mr.  Warrington  thought  a  minute,  before  an- 
swering: "If  Malston  is  not  at  the  stables  when 
you  go  back,  saddle  Orion,  and  a  horse  for  your- 
self, and  we  will  ride  to  the  cottage.  We  may 
find  something  there,  a  note,  perhaps,  that  will 
explain  this  unusual  proceeding." 

"You  surely  don't  mean  to  go  out  in  this  dread- 
ful rain,  Brian!"  Mrs.  Warrington  exclaimed, 
looking  at  him  as  if  he  were  a  sick  child  that 
a  wetting  would  hurt. 

"Yes,  I  must,  Ju,"  he  answered,  and,  when 
Donald  had  gone:  "This  is  a  matter  of  too 
much  importance  to  wait  until  the  storm  is  over." 

To  me  he  said  in  the  same  kind  way  he  had 
spoken  to  her:  "Perhaps  you  know  something 
about-  Malston,  Miss  Brenson?" 

"I  don't  know  where  he  has  gone,  sir,"  I 
answered,  and  I  looked  at  him  in  a  way  that 


SANDPEEP  361 

was  meant  to  tell  him  I  had  found  out  something 
else.  He  understood,  and  said: 

"You  may  speak.  We  cannot  keep  the  matter 
a  secret  any  longer." 

Without  minding  Mrs.  Warrington,  who  was 
looking  from  me  to  her  cousin  in  a  way  I  don't 
know  how  to  describe,  I  said: 

"I  have  been  waiting  here  a  long  time  to  give 
you  a  message  from  the  woman  at  the  cottage  — 
she  wants  you  to  call  there  this  evening  —  and 
to  tell  you  that  I  let  the  boy  go  home  with  her." 

"You  allowed  Geoffrey  to  go  with  that 
woman?"  he  repeated.  "Was  that  obeying  my 
orders,  Miss  Brenson?" 

"No,  sir;  but  you  will  understand  why  I  dis- 
obeyed you  when  you  go  to  the  cottage.  The 
woman  and  Andrew  will  tell  you  everything." 

"Didn't  you  just  hear  Donald  say  there  was 
no  one  there?"  he  asked  sharply,  the  wrinkle 
above  his  nose  showing  again.  "After  the  strict 
orders  I  gave  you  concerning  my  son,  why  did 
you  take  it  upon  yourself  to  let  him  go  with 
that  woman?" 

"If  I  hadn't  been  quite  sure  that  he  isn't  your 
son,  sir,  I  should  not  have  disobeyed  your  orders." 

"Not  my  son?  What  do  you  mean?"  Oh,  but 
he  did  look  cross! 

"The  boy,  whose  name  is  Gervase,  instead  of 
Geoffrey,  is  the  son  of  the  woman  at  the  cottage 
all  right,  but  you  are  not  his  father — " 


362  SANDPEEP 

"  Brian  Warrington!"  interrupted  his  cousin, 
impatiently,  "what  is  the  girl  talking  about? 
How  comes  she  to  know  so  much  more  about 
your  private  affairs  than  we  —  your  own  family? 
Who  is  the  woman  at  the  cottage?" 

"She  is  Malston's  sister,"  he  told  her,  "and 
my  unhappy  wife  — " 

"Please  excuse  me,  sir,"  I  interrupted,  "she 
isn't  your  wife!' 

"Miss  Brenson," — speaking  as  if  he,  too,  were 
all  out  of  patience, — "your  statements  differ  so 
entirely,  I  am  at  a  loss  how  to  understand 
them.  Only  yesterday  you  assured  me  the 
woman  was  my  wife." 

"And  so  I  believed  myself,  yesterday;  but 
to-day  I  found  out  that  she  is  Andrew's  wife  - 

"Who  in  the  name  of  heaven  is  Andrew?" 
Mrs.  Warrington  interrupted.  "What  does  all 
this  unintelligible  chatter  mean?" 

"Have  patience,  cousin!"  Mr.  Warrington  an- 
swered in  his  usual  tone.  "The  secret  Miss 
Brenson  and  I  have  been  keeping  from  you  and 
Aunt  Elinor  will  soon  be  explained  satisfacto- 
rily to  both  of  you.  I  would  have  preferred  to 
let  you  remain  in  ignorance  of  it,  but  justice  to 
myself,  as  well  as  to  Miss  Brenson,  to  whom  I 
am  indebted  for  more  than  I  can  ever  hope  to 
repay,  compels  me  to  share  it  with  you.  When  I 
return  from  the  cottage,  you  shall  hear  it."  To 
me  he  said: 


SANDPEEP  363 

"From  whom  did  you  learn  that  the  woman 
is  Andrew's  wife?" 

"Shall  I  tell  all  I  know?"  I  asked,  after  a 
meaning  glance  toward  his  cousin. 

He  said  "yes,"  and  in  as  few  words  as  possible 
I  told  him  how  the  woman  and  I  had  gone  down 
to  the  shore  to  look  for  the  boy;  how  Andrew 
had  followed  us  when  he  heard  her  scream  so 
dreadfully,  and  how  I  had  forced  him,  when  he 
believed  the  boy  would  be  lost,  to  tell  me  the 
truth  — 

"I  wish  I  could  believe  he  told  you  the  truth!" 
Mr.  Warrington  interrupted,  oh,  so  earnestly! 

"You  may  believe  it,  sir,"  I  assured  him. 
"You  would,  I  know,  if  you  had  seen  how  nearly 
out  of  his  mind  he  was.  I  think  he  would  have 
killed  me,  if  he  had  not  believed  I  could  save 
the  boy.  Because  he  believed  it,  he  told  me  the 
truth  when  I  said  I  wouldn't  save  him  unless  he 
did.  He  swore  that  the  boy  was  his  own  son; 
that  the  woman  at  the  cottage  was  his  wife,  and 
twin  sister  to  —  to  Angela." 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Warrington,  "I  see!  I 
understand!  Twin  sisters!  and  I  have  been  too 
stupid  ever  to  suspect  it.  But  the  resemblance 
—  the  resemblance  is  wonderful!  That  is  why 
I  was  so  easily  deceived." 

"Anybody  would  have  been  deceived,"  I  al- 
lowed. "  I  saw  a  photograph  of  Mrs.  Makart  and 
her  sister  at  the  cottage  and  believed  that  both 


364  SANDPEEP 

were  pictures  of  Mrs.  Makart,  they  are  so  exactly 
alike!  I  have  heard  Malston  and  Andrew  call 
the  woman  'Lina,'  which  must  be  short  for 
'Angeline,'  one  of  the  names  written  on  the 
back  of  the  photograph.  The  other  is  'Angela.' ' 

"  Madame  Angeline!  —  the  name  of  the  eques- 
trienne!" Mr.  Warrington  said,  more  to  himself 
than  to  me.  "And  Malston  is  Marcinet,  Gervase 
Marcinet,  of  course !  I  recognize  him  now  under 
his  disguise.  What  a  dolt  I  have  been  —  a  blind, 
stupid  dolt !  Miss  Brenson, ' '  —  suddenly  catching 
my  hand  in  both  his  —  "how  am  I  ever  to  thank 
you  enough  ?  —  how  repay  all  that  you  have  done 
for  me?" 

He  gave  my  hand  a  warm  little  squeeze  before 
he  let  it  go;  and  before  I  could  answer  him, 
walked  to  the  front  door  and  peered  out  into  the 
storm  to  see  if  Donald  were  there  with  the  horses. 

Mrs.  Warrington  Was  sitting  in  one  of  the  high- 
backed  hall-chairs,  looking  like  a  queen  on  her 
throne,  with  the  diamonds  on  her  bare  neck 
glittering  like  the  stars  on  a  frosty  night,  and 
more  red  in  her  cheeks  than  I'd  ever  seen  there 
before.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  her  cousin,  and 
I  wished  I  could  read  her  mind,  her  face  puzzled 
me  so.  I  didn't  have  time  to  puzzle  over  her  long, 
for  Mr.  Warrington  shut  the  door  and  came  back. 

"How  did  you  get  to  the  sloop?"  he  asked 
suddenly.  "There  was  no  small  boat  on  the 
beach. " 


SANDPEEP  365 

"No,  sir,"  smiling  at  thought  of  the  figure  I 
must  have  cut,  a-straddle  of  the  log.  "I  pad- 
dled out  to  it  on  a  drift-log,  and  after  I  was 
in  the  sloop  it  was  easy  enough  to  sail  after 
the  dory." 

"Wasn't  the  sea  very  rough?  I  thought  the 
wind  almost  a  gale  about  that  time." 

"It  was  blowing  hard  when  I  came  in.  The 
water  was  too  rough  when  I  caught  up  with 
the  dory  to  change  the  boy  to  the  sloop;  so  I 
towed  him  in,  which  was  easy  enough,  with  the 
boy  and  Bonny  lying  in  the  bottom  of  the  dory, 
too  seasick  to  stir!" 

"I  wonder  what  you  wouldn't  think  'easy 
enough'  to  do  for  your  fellow  creatures,  you 
brave,  splendid  girl!"  he  said,  so  earnestly  that 
the  blood  just  poured  into  my  face  and  neck; 
even  my  ears  felt  hot.  I  was  going  to  stammer 
thanks  for  the  kind  words,  but  Mrs.  Warrington 
hindered  me: 

"Brian,  I  am  consumed  with  curiosity!"  she 
complained.  "Do  tell  me  as  much  as  you 
can,  before  the  horses  come,  about  this  most 
extraordinary  affair — " 

"There  they  are,  now,"  he  interrupted,  and 
we  could  hear  hoofs  beat  on  the  gravel  outside. 
"Have  patience  a  little  longer  and  you  shall  hear 
everything." 

He  went  to  the  back  of  the  hall,  where  there's 
a  closet  for  coats  and  hats  and  umbrellas,  and 


366  SANDPEEP 

while  he  was  putting  on  a  rubber  coat,  I  went 
close  to  him  to  say  what  I  didn't  want  his  cousin 
to  hear: 

"Please  excuse  me,  Mr.  Warrington,  but  don't 
you  think  William  had  better  go  with  you,  too?" 

"Don't  you  think  you  would  be  a  better  body- 
guard than  William  and  Donald?"  he  said  in  the 
same  low  voice,  smiling  at  me. 

I  knew  he  was  making  fun  of  me,  so  I  an- 
swered in  a  like  manner: 

"I  should  certainly  put  on  an  oilskin  coat  and 
rubber  boots,  and  run  after  you  with  a  lantern, 
if  you  were  going  alone!" 

"I  believe  you  would!"  he  answered  heartily. 
Then  he  went  back  to  his  cousin,  and  said  to 
her: 

"Don't  say  anything  to  Aunt  Elinor,  Ju.  Wait 
until  I  return,  and  I  will  tell  you  both  every- 
thing." Then  he  went  out  into  the  storm,  and 
rode  away  with  Donald  down  the  avenue. 

I  was  walking  toward  the  stairs,  when  Mrs. 
Warrington  said,  just  as  if  she  were  giving  an 
order  to  one  of  the  help: 

"Come  into  the  library,  Miss  Brenson,  I  have 
something  to  say  to  you." 

When  we  were  in  the  library,  she  sat  down, 
but  as  she  didn't  ask  me  to  take  a  chair,  too,  I 
remained  standing  in  front  of  her. 

"Tell  me,"  she  said,  "just  what  you  did  to 
make  my  cousin  imagine  you  saved  his  life? 


SANDPEEP  367 

You  must  know  that  everything  which  concerns 
him  is  of  interest  to  me. " 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  I  said,  then  told  her  what  I 
had  done  to  hinder  a  meeting  between  Mr.  War- 
rington  and  Andrew  on  the  North  Haven  road. 

"You  were  certainly  very  bold,"  she  allowed, 
when  I  had  told  her. 

"  Bold  ?  "  I  repeated,  not  knowing  how  to  under 
stand  the  word.  "We  Cove  folks  call  anyone 
'bold'  that's  forward  and  impudent  - 

"That  is  what  I  meant,"  she  interrupted.  "I 
could  not  use  a  milder  word  to  describe  such  an 
act.  It  was  very  unwomanly,  and  I  can't  con- 
ceive how  any  modest  girl  could  have  done  what 
you  say  you  did." 

"Mr.  Warrington  is  kind  enough  to  say  it 
saved  his  life,"  I  allowed;  and  I  let  her  see  I 
was  offended. 

"He  is  too  courteous.  Don't  interrupt  me  — 
when  I  opened  my  lips  to  speak.  "I  take  this 
opportunity  to  tell  you  how  necessary  it  is  for  a 
girl  in  your  position  to  conduct  herself  more 
modestly,  and  to  avoid,  instead  of  seek,  the  ad- 
miration of  men  above  her  in  station.  They 
only  laugh  at  you,  believe  me,  my  good  girl.  No 
man  admires  boldness;  it  only  disgusts  him.  My 
cousin  is  sorry  for  you,  because  he  is  an  honor- 
able man,"  she  went  on  to  tell  me,  and  I  had  to 
stand  there  and  listen  to  her,  my  cheeks  hot. 
Angry  tears  were  under  my  eyelids,  but  I  winked 


368  SANDPEEP 

them  back;  I  wasn't  going  to  let  her  see  how 
much  she  hurt  me.  "It  is  very  fortunate  for  you 
that  he  is  an  honorable  gentleman,  as  well  as  a 
man  of  the  world,  for  —  we  all  admit  it !  —  you 
are  a  very  pretty  girl,  and  all  men  admire  beauty. 
I  take  the  trouble  to  speak  to  you  because  my 
aunt  was  so  interested  in  you  before  you  began 
to  take  liberties — " 

"Please,  Mrs.  Warrington,"  —  I  made  bold  to 
interrupt  —  "in  what  way  have  I  taken  liberties? 
I'm  sure  I  never  meant  to." 

"Every  time  you  speak  to  my  cousin  or  any  of 
the  gentlemen,  without  being  spoken  to  first,  is 
taking  a  liberty,"  she  answered  sharply.  "My 
aunt,  I  must  say,  is  in  a  measure  to  blame  for 
your  forward  behavior.  She  was  so  amused  and 
attracted  when  you  first  came  here,  by  what  she 
called  your  artlessness,  that  she  foolishly  per- 
mitted you  to  imagine  your  position  here  above 
that  of  the  ordinary  servants.  That  she  regrets 
her  mistake  now,  I  know;  and  she  will  be  greatly 
relieved  when  she  learns  that  your  services  will 
no  longer  be  required." 

"Did  Miss  Warrington  tell  you  she  was  going 
to  dismiss  me?"  I  asked. 

"Certainly;  she  has  become  convinced  that 
such  a  course  is  necessary." 

"Because  you  'told  her  you  heard  Mr.  War- 
rington talk  secrets  with  me  in  the  library,"  I 
said,  real  impudently. 


SANDPEEP  369 

"You  are  impertinent,  as  well  as  bold,  Miss 
Brenson,"  she  answered,  very  lofty  —  as  if  she 
were  talking  down  from  a  tall  steeple.  "But  I 
will  overlook  your  rudeness;  and,  out  of  pity  for 
you,  spare  you  the  humiliation  of  a  dismissal 
from  my  aunt.  You  may  go  home  early  to- 
morrow morning  —  before  she  and  cousin  are 
up,  I  should  advise.  I  will  order  an  early  break- 
fast for  you,  and  a  wagon  to  take  you  home.  I 
will  explain  your  sudden  departure  to  my  aunt, 
and  ask  my  cousin  to  send  you  a  suitable  reward 
for  what  you  have  done  for  him,  and,  of  course, 
the  wages  due  you.  Now,  you  had  better  go  at 
once  to  bed,  as  you  will  have  to  rise  very  early. 
The  wagon  will  be  at  the  back  door  at  five 
o'clock;  don't  keep  it  waiting." 

She  got  up  from  her  chair  and  I  followed  her 
up  the  stairs.  She  went  into  Miss  Warrington's 
sitting-room,  and  I  dragged  my  heavy  feet  on 
up  to  the  tower. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

I  DREW  back  the  window-curtain  in  my  room 
—mine  no  longer,  alas! — and  peered  through 
the  pane ;  rain  was  still  beating  against  it,  but 
the  clouds  were  breaking  in  the  northwest  sky. 
Clear  weather  wasn't  far  off. 

"I'll  not  wait  till  morning,"  I  said  to  myself, 
when  I  saw  the  rifts  between  the  clouds.  "I'll 
go  home  right  now.  I  don't  want  to  see  any  of 
them  again,  any  more  than  they  want  to  see 
me.  I'll  just  leave  a  little  note  for  Miss  War- 
rington,  thanking  her  for  her  kindness,  and  go." 
The  little  clock  on  the  bureau  said  nine  o'clock, 
but  I  didn't  mind.  Of  course  aunt  would  be  in 
bed  and  sound  asleep;  but  the  door  wouldn't 
be  locked,  and  morning  would  be  soon  enough 
to  tell  her  bad  news  —  that  I  had  lost  my 
good  chance,  and  had  come  home  to  stop  for 
good  and  all. 

The  few  things  belonging  to  me  were  soon 
gathered  up  and  wrapped  in  a  newspaper.  I 
took  none  of  the  little  ornaments  Miss  Warring 
ton  had  given  me  to  make  my  room  look  "more 
homelike"  -  as  if  my  little  closet-room  at  home 
had  such  pretty  things  in  it  —  for  I  wasn't  sure 
she  meant  me  to  keep  them.  Then  I  wrote  a 

370 


SANDPEEP  371 

note  to  her,  thanking  her  and  bidding  her  good- 
bye, folded  it,  wrote  her  name  on  the  back  of  it 
and  left  it  on  the  table,  where  it  would  be  seen 
by  the  first  person  who  should  come  into  the 
room.  Then  I  took  up  my  bundle  and  stole 
down  the  tower  stairs.  No  need  now  to  lock  the 
door  at  the  foot!  I  stopped  on  the  terrace  steps 
to  look  up  at  the  windows  of  Miss  Warrington's. 
room.  Just  then  she  came  to  one  of  them, 
opened  it  and  looked  out.  "It  isn't  raining 
quite  so  hard  now,"  I  heard  her  say,  "but  it  is  a 
nasty  night  for  him  to  be  out.  I  can't  imagine 
what  has  taken  him  to  the  cottage  at  this  hour 
and  in  such  weather." 

Then  the  window  closed,  and  I  believed  I  had 
seen  the  last  of  my  dear  fairy  godmother  —  I 
like  to  call  her  that  to  myself  sometimes.  As 
there  wasn't  anyone  to  see  or  hear  me,  I  let  my- 
self cry  like  a  baby,  as  I  ran  down  the  avenue, 
"boo-hoo,  boo-hoo,"  like  the  wind  among  the 
trees. 

Though  it  was  still  raining  quite  hard,  the 
moon  behind  the  clouds  made  light  enough  for 
me  to  see  where  I  was  going.  I  was  near  the 
gateway  when  I  heard  the  horses  coming  down 
the  lane,  and  stepped  to  the  side  of  the  road  to 
be  out  of  the  light  of  Donald's  lantern.  He  was 
saying  as  they  passed  by  me:  "You  may  as  well 
try  to  get  a  few  hours'  sleep,  sir.  We  need  not 
start  until  four  o'clock." 


372  SANDPEEP 

That  is  all  I  heard,  but  it  was  enough  to  tell 
me  that  he  and  Mr.  Warrington  were  going 
somewhere  early  the  next  morning  —  after  the 
runaways,  of  course.  I  was  truly  thankful  that 
the  "masqueraders"  at  the  cottage  had  gone. 

It  was  lucky  for  me  that  a  team  going  toward 
North  Haven  caught  up  with  me  before  I  had 
gone  far  from  the  Lodge  gates.  It  was  a  wagon, 
with  several  big  boxes  in  it,  and  as  I  did  not 
want  the  driver  to  see  me,  I  climbed  up  behind 
the  boxes,  and  was  hauled  to  the  Cove-road 
without  having  to  say  "thank  you  for  the  ride" 
when  I  got  down. 

I  stole  through  the  shed  into  the  kitchen  to 
my  closet,  where  I  lighted  the  candle.  Then  I 
closed  the  door  of  the  spare-chamber  and  hung 
the  quilt  off  my  bed  over  it,  so  that  not  a  speck 
of  light  could  get  in  to  aunt,  and  waken  her. 

I  made  a  fire  in  the  stove  to  dry  my  wet  clothes 
and  shoes,  and  because  I  knew  there  was  no  use 
in  going  to  bed,  as  I  could  not  have  shut  my 
eyes,  I  opened  my  bundle  to  get  my  French 
lesson-book,  the  only  thing  I  had  brought  away 
from  the  Lodge;  but  I  could  hardly  see,  my  eyes 
ached  so.  I  sat  staring  at  the  candle  for  a  while, 
then  I  folded  my  arms  on  the  table  in  front  of 
me,  laid  my  face  on  them  and  cried  so  hard  that 
I  did  not  hear  someone  come  into  the  kitchen, 
until  a  hand  was  laid  on  my  shoulder  and  Mr. 
Warrington' s  voice  said,  close  to  my  ear:  "Miss 


SANDPEEP  373 

Brenson,  my  dear  girl!  what  has  happened? 
I  knocked  several  times,"  he  told  me,  when  I 
looked  up  at  him,  "but  you  did  not  hear  me, 
and  finding  the  door  unlocked,  I  took  the  liberty 
to  come  in." 

"It  wasn't  a  liberty,"  I  said  —  dreadfully 
ashamed  that  he  had  caught  me  bawling  like  a 
great  baby  —  "and  nothing  has  happened.  I 
was  crying  because  —  because  I  hadn't  anything 
else  to  do,  and  —  oh,  Mr.  Warrington,  I  am  so 
very  unhappy,"  and  I  went  to  crying  again. 

He  took  off  his  rain-coat,  hung  it  over  a  chair, 
sat  down  beside  me,  and  waited  until  I  had 
had  my  "hush-up  cry";  then,  while  I  was  dry- 
ing my  eyes,  he  said  in  a  joking  way,  to  help 
quiet  me: 

"I  have  come  all  the  way  from  the  Lodge, 
through  the  rain,  to  scold  you  for  running  away 
in  such  a  storm!  If  you  were  too  eager  to 
get  away  from  us,  to  wait  until  morning,  why 
didn't  you  wait  until  I  returned  from  the 
cottage?  Aren't  you  curious  to  hear  what 
I  found  there?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  should  like  to  know.  I  came 
home  because  I  am  not  needed  at  the  Lodge 
any  more.  I  left  a  note  for  Miss  Warrington 
in  my  —  in  the  tower-room." 

"She  has  it,"  he  answered,  and  the  wrinkle 
showed  between  his  eyebrows  for  a  second;  then 
he  looked  pleasant  again  and  added:  "And  so 


374  SANDPEEP 

you  think  that,  because  danger  has  ceased  to 
threaten  the  owner  of  the  Lodge,  you  are  not 
needed  there?" 

"Not  exactly  that,  sir.  I  thought  a  governess 
wasn't  needed,  now  that  there  is  no  scholar. 
Have  all  the  people  gone  from  the  cottage?" 

"Yes;  not  even  Bonny  was  left  behind.  I 
found  nothing  but  the  furniture,  and  this,"  — 
he  took  a  folded  paper  from  his  breast-pocket 
and  handed  it  to  me.  As  nearly  as  I  can 
remember,  this  is  what  was  written  on  the 
paper : 

"  All  the  legal  particulars  concerning  the  death  of 
Mrs.  Brian  Warrington  and  her  baby  son,  Geoffrey, 
may  be  learned  from  Father  Bertolon,  cure  of  St. 
Ann's,  Languedoc. 

"  Angeline  Troubeton  (born  Marcinet),  twin  sister 
of  Angela  Warrington,  and  wife  of  Andre  Troubeton, 
begs  Mr.  Warrington  to  forgive  her  for  deceiving  him, 
by  letting  him  believe  her  his  wife  Angela,  and  her 
son,  Gervase  (son  of  Andre"  Troubeton),  his  and 
Angela's  son,  Geoffrey. 

"  Angeline  Troubeton  swears  that  the  large  sum  of 
money  Mr.  Warrington  gave  her  when  she  allowed 
him  to  take  her  son  from  her  will  be  returned  to 
him  in  time. 

"  Signed,  GERVASE  MARCINET. 

"  Known  at  Surgecliff  Lodge  as  Robley  Malston." 

"And  they  have  really  gone  for  good?"  I 
said,  handing  back  the  note. 

"They  have  gone,  but  whether  for  good  or 
evil,  I  cannot  say.  To  convince  myself  that 
what  this  note  states  is  true,  I  am  going  abroad 


SANDPEEP  375 

to  see  the  priest  mentioned.  I  sail  from  New 
York  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"I  should  think  you  would  first  try  to  catch 
those  dreadful  story-tellers,  and  do  something  to 
them  for  cheating  you,"  I  allowed. 

"I  am  too  glad  to  be  rid  of  them  and  too 
heartily  ashamed  of  my  stupidity  to  wish  to  pun- 
ish them,"  he  answered.  "All  I  want  now  is 
proof  that  what  is  written  here  is  true.  Now  I 
must  explain  why  I  am  here  at  this  late  hour. 
Of  course,  I  did  not  like  the  idea  of  going  away 
without  bidding  my  brave  little  friend  good-bye; 
but  what  really  brought  me  was  the  desire  to 
hear  you  say  that  you  will  agree  to  what  my 
aunt  will  propose  when  she  comes  to  see  you 
to-morrow  - 

"Is  Miss  Warrington  really  and  truly  coming 
to  see  me?"  I  interrupted. 

"Yes,  and—" 

"Isn't  she  displeased  with  me  any  more?"  I 
interrupted  a  second  time,  quite  forgetting  my 
manners,  I  was  so  delighted. 

"No,  she  is  not  displeased  with  you,  as  you 
will  be  convinced  when  you  see  her.  Will  you 
promise  to  do  what  she  will  ask?" 

"Why,  yes,  sir,  of  course,  if  it  is  something  I 
can  do." 

"Your  hand  on  it!"  —  holding  out  his  hand, 
and  pretending  to  be  very  sober,  though  I  could 
see  a  smile  in  his  eyes  and  under  his  moustache. 


376  SANDPEEP 

I  laid  my  hand  in  his  for  a  second,  and  when 
he  let  go  of  it,  I  held  it  up  so  that  the  pretty 
stone  on  the  finger  showed  like  a  star  in  the 
candle-light. 

"Don't  you  remember  this  ring,  sir?"  I  asked. 
"Angela  gave  it  to  me  that  morning  —  her 
wedding-day.  She  said  it  would  bring  me  good 
luck." 

"Has  it  brought  you  good  luck?" 

"Yes  —  after  a  long  wait." 

"Then  continue  to  have  faith  in  the  moon- 
stone! Now  I  must  be  off,  for  I  have  still  much 
to  do  before  I  start  on  my  long  journey.  Good- 
bye, dear  little  friend,"  taking  my  hand  again  for 
a  second.  "Say  good-bye  to  your  aunt  for  me." 

"Sha'n't  I  ever  see  you  again?"  I  asked,  tak- 
ing up  the  candle,  to  light  him  from  the  door. 

"You  certainly  shall,  if  we  both  live  and  if 
you  keep  your  promise." 

"I  will  keep  it,  you  may  be  sure!"  I  answered 
heartily.  When  he  opened  the  door,  a  strong 
draft  swept  through  the  house,  and  played  a 
tune  on  the  silk  thread  aunt  keeps  stretched 
across  the  loft  window-sill,  because  it  makes  her 
believe  I  am  at  home!  He  stopped  in  the  door- 
way and  said: 

"I  could  almost  believe  this  stormy  evening, 
and  that  other,  years  ago,  the  same  —  but  for 
this  tall  girl,"  -laying  his  hand  for  a  second  on 
my  shoulder  —  "and  the  memory  of  so  much 


SANDPEEP  377 

that  is  unpleasant.     Good-bye  again,  and  God 
bless  you!" 

I  held  the  candle  above  my  head  to  light  Orion 
out  of  the  door-yard.  When  he  was  outside 
the  gate,  Mr.  Warrington  called,  "  Thank  you, 
good-night  and  good-bye."  Then  the  darkness 
swallowed  up  horse  and  rider. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

FROM  Miss  Elinor  Warrington,  Surgecliff 
Lodge,  to  Dr.  Lemuel  J.  Parke,  on  board 
the  Nautilus,  Gibraltar. 

"My  DEAR  COUSIN, — 

"As  the  hasty  note  Brian  wrote  you  before  he 
sailed  from  New  York  (three  days  ago),  could  con- 
tain only  the  briefest  mention  of  what  has  hap- 
pened here  in  the  past  week,  I  send  you  herewith 
a  detailed  account  of  the  most  extraordinary  occur- 
rences. 

"First,  however,  I  think  you  and  Brian  entertain 
a  very  low  opinion  of  my  discretion,  as  well  as  of 
my  'nerves,'  to  have  believed  it  necessary  to  keep 
me  in  ignorance  of  the  danger  which  threatened 
Brian,  if  not  all  of  us,  for  weeks,  from  the  ruffian 
you  two  wise  men  were  credulous  enough  to  believe 
the  brother  of  the  dancing-woman!  Had  you  al- 
lowed me  to  share  your  secret,  instead  of  sharing  it 
only  with  Keren,  I  should  not  now  be  forced  to 
lament  my  unkindness  toward  that  bravest  and 
most  innocent  of  maidens. 

"Just  think,  Lem,  I  was  cruel  enough  to  con- 
demn your  protegee  as  an  artful  and  designing  minx, 
when  all  the  while  she  was  our  guardian  angel,  if 
you  can  imagine  an  angel  in  a  cheap  cotton  gown, 
and  coarse  boots! 

"Brian's  letter  will  have  informed  you  of  his  visit 
to  the  cottage  in  the  wood  that  stormy  evening,  and 
of  the  flight  of  the  precious  trio  of  cheats  and  cut- 
throats —  together  with  the  poor  little  stupid  lad ; 
we  were  all  even  more  stupid  for  believing  he  had 
Warrington  blood  in  his  veins. 

378 


SANDPEEP  379 

"I  was  left  wholly  in  ignorance  of  the  nature  of 
Brian's  errand  to  the  cottage,  until  he  returned, 
though  Juliet  had  learned  something  of  it  from  a 
conversation  between  him  and  Keren,  before  he 
started.  To  spare  my  nerves  I  was  left  to  puzzle 
my  old  head  over  my  laddie's  unusual  behavior, 
until  he  came  back  and  told  me  what  I  ought  to 
have  known  all  along. 

"He  came  up  to  my  room  directly  he  returned 
from  the  cottage  and  inquired  for  Keren,  looking 
about  him  as  if  he  had  expected  to  find  her  with 
me. 

"  'She  is  in  her  room,  most  likely,'  I  answered, 
very  coldly. 

"He  rang  for  James,  whom  he  bade  ask  Miss 
Brenson  to  come  to  Miss  Warrington's  sitting-room 
for  a  few  minutes! 

"  'She  may  be  in  bed,'  I  interposed. 

"  'That  is  not  likely,'  he  'allowed,'  as  Keren 
would  say.  'Pardon  me,  aunt,  but  I  have  an 
important  matter  to  settle  in  your  presence,  as  I 
leave  for  New  York  early  in  the  morning.  Well?' 
this  to  James  who  had  returned  from  the  tower 
wing. 

'  Miss  Brenson  is  not  in  her  room,  sir.  I  knocked 
three  times,  then  tried  the  door.  It  is  not  locked, 
and  there's  no  light  in  the  room.' 

'Very  well;  you  may  go.  Be  sure  to  have  a 
cup  of  coffee  and  a  biscuit  for  me  at  four,  to-morrow 
morning.' 

"  When  James  had  gone,  Brian  also  left  the  room, 
but  came  back  in  a  few  minutes,  with  a  folded  note- 
sheet  in  his  hand. 

"  'I  found  this  in  Miss  Brenson's  room  —  it  is  ad- 
dressed to  you — I  have  read  it,'  he  said  very  curtly, 
and  gave  me  the  paper. 

"I  read  the  few  lines,-  scrawled  in  great  haste,  by 
a  hand  that  had  not  been  guided  by  dry  eyes!  This 
is  the  note: 


380  SANDPEEP 

"  '  DEAR  Miss  WARRINGTON, — 

"  '  Mrs.  Warrington  will  tell  you  why  I  decided  to  go  home 
without  seeing  you  again  ;  but  I  can't  go  without  thanking 
you  a  thousand  times  for  your  kindness  to  me  and  begging 
you  to  forgive  me  for  having  taken  the  liberties  I  did.  I 
should  not  have  taken  them,  if  I  had  known  what  was  my 
proper  place  in  this  house  —  if  I  knew  more  about  rusticator 
ways.  Please  tell  Mrs.  Warrington  not  to  ask  Mr.  Warring- 
ton  to  send  me  the  suitable  reward  she  said  she  would.  I 
don't  want  pay  for  what  I  did  for  him  and  I  will  not  take 
any.  And  I  don't  want  any  more  wages,  either,  for  it  isn't 
right  you  should  pay  me  for  teaching  a  boy  who  is  ro  relation 
to  you.  Your  kindness,  the  use  of  your  piano  and  books,  are 
pay  enough  for  everything.  Good-bye,  and  thank  you. 
"  '  Yours  respectfully, 

"'KEREN  HAPPUCH  BRENSON. 

"  'P.  S.  If  you  don't  think  it  taking  too  much  liberty, 
please  say  good-bye  to  Mr.  Warrington  for  me.' 

"  I  could  have  cried,  Lem,  when  I  read  that  pathetic 
little  postscript.  I  couldn't  speak  and  just  looked  up 
at  Brian,  whose  brows  were  drawn  together  —  the 
storm  signal  I  know  so  well! 

"'Juliet,'  —  turning  his  frowning  face  upon  her, 
'what  did  you  say  to  Miss  Brenson?' 

'"  What  did  I  say?'  she  repeated.  'How  can  you 
expect  me  to  remember  every  word  I  say  — ' 

"'  Try  to  remember,'  he  interrupted,  in  a  tone  that 
was  in  keeping  with  his  frowning  brow. 

"'Dear  me,  Brian,'  impatiently,  'what  is  the  use 
of  being  so  tragic  about  a  trifle!  What  can  it 
matter:1  If  the  girl  were  as  guileless  as  you  like  to 
believe,  she  would  have  accepted  my  reproof  as  be- 
came a  modest,  well-mannered  servant,  instead  of 
trying  to  win  your  sympathy  in  such  a  theatrical 
way.' 

' '  It  matters  a  good  deal  what  you  said  to  drive 
the  girl  out  of  my  house  on  such  a  night,'  he  re- 
plied, ignoring  the  latter  half  of  her  spiteful  little 
speech.  '  I  must  know  in  order  to  make  amends. 
Try  to  recall  what  you  said,  and  remember  how 
deeply  I  am  indebted  to — ' 


SANDPEEP  381 

"'Indebted  your  grandmother!'  Juliet  broke  in, 
now  very  angry,  her  blue  eyes  fairly  scintillating. 
'You  magnify  a  trifling  service,  and  instead  of  let- 
ting the  girl  think  you  are  indebted  to  her,  you 
ought  to  reprove  her  for  her  bold  conduct.  Take 
care,  cousin,'  shaking  an  admonitory  finger  at  him 
and  smiling,  '  don't  let  the  quixotically  chivalrous 
feeling  you  entertain  toward  my  sex  lead  you  a 
second  time  to  commit  a  folly  you  would  regret  to 
the  end  of  your  days!  As  for  what  I  said  to  the 
ex-governess,'  she  went  on,  never  heeding  the  dark 
flush  her  cruel  reminder  of  his  boyish  recklessness 
had  brought  to  his  face,  '  I  can  recall  only  that  I 
expressed  amazement  at  her  boldness  and  her 
familiar  manner  toward  you;  and  cautioned  her 
against  taking  the  same  liberty  with  other  men, 
who  might  not  prove  so  honorable  as  my  chivalrous 
cousin! ' 

"'I  am  obliged  to  you  for  attributing  to  me  a 
quality  I  always  prided  myself  on  possessing! '  he 
responded,  calm  and  cool  now.  '  I  regret  exceed- 
ingly, though,  that  you  believed  it  necessary  to  insult 
an  innocent  girl." 

"  Here,  noting  the  increasing  fury  in  Juliet's 
countenance,  I  believed  it  expedient  to  hinder  a 
retort  she  would  regret  in  her  saner  mood.  I  said: 
1  Laddie,  do  tell  me  what  you  and  Juliet  are  talking 
about!  What  took  you  to  Malston's  cottage  in 
such  a  storm  ? ' 

"  '  Pardon  me,  dear  aunt,  I  forgot  that  you  are 
still  in  ignorance  of  what  has  been  happening  here. 
It  is  a  most  extraordinary  tale,  and  as  it  will  take 
some  time,  Ju  and  I  will  postpone  further  argument.' 

"  Then  he  told  me  everything,  beginning  with 
Keren's  encounter  with  that  ruffian  on  the  shore, 
and  concluding  with  his  visit  to  the  cottage. 

"  Now,  what  a  wonderfully  brave  and  good  girl  is 
your  protegee,  Lem!  Little  did  you  imagine  when 
you  sent  her  to  me,  that  she  would  be  the  means  of 


382  SANDPEEP 

frustrating  a  diabolical  plot  to  murder  my  laddie!     I 
don't  wonder  that  he  feels  deeply  indebted  to  her. 

"After  he  had  concluded  his  recital  —  sensational 
and  blood-curdling  as  a  modern  romance  —  he  said : 

"  '  Now,  dear  aunt,  I  want  you  to  do  something 
for  me  —  something  I  can't  do  myself  —  chiefly  for 
want  of  time,  and  because  it  requires  diplomacy! 
You  have  told  me  that  Miss  Brenson's  ambition  is 
to  secure  a  musical  education.  I  have  decided  that 
the  best  way  I  can  repay  her  for  her  great  service 
will  be  to  make  her  desire  possible;  she  shall  have 
musical  instruction  from  the  best  masters.  There- 
fore, I  want  you  to  get  her  aunt  to  consent  to  go 
with  her  to  the  place  you  select  as  the  best  for  my 
purpose.  No  expense  shall  be  spared.  Miss  Bren- 
son,  you  say,  will  not  leave  her  aunt,  consequently 
the  aunt  must  be  induced  to  leave  home,  which  I 
think  my  diplomatic  aunt  can  do.  Will  you  under- 
take to  move  the  mountain,  dear?' 

"  Now,  though  I  wasn't  confident  that  my  persua- 
sive powers  were  as  forceful  as  my  laddie  believed, 
I  was  ready  and  willing,  as  always,  to  do  what  he 
asked.  I  said: 

"  '  Of  course  I  will,  for  I,  too,  think  the  noble  girl 
deserves  the  highest  reward  you  can  confer.'  That 
was  '  one '  for  Ju! 

'  Thank  you,  dear,'  he  answered.  '  I  knew  I 
could  depend  on  you  to  help  me;'  that  was  meant 
for  Ju,  too.  'This  is  what  I  propose:  After  you 
have  decided  on  the  best  place  for  Miss  Brenson  to 
pursue  her  studies,  and  have  induced  her  aunt  to 
accompany  her,  I  want  you  to  oblige  me  still  fur- 
ther by  allowing  the  two  helpless  women  to  travel 
under  your  guidance  — 

'  Brian  Warrington/  Juliet  interrupted  sharply, 
'you  surely  ought  not  ask  Aunt  Elinor  to  travel 
about  the  country  in  company  with  two  such 
aboriginals! ' 

"'  I  don't  ask  Aunt   Elinor  to  "travel  about  the 


SANDPEEP  383 

country"  with  Miss  Brenson  and  her  aunt/  he  an- 
swered quietly.  '  I  only  ask  her  to  let  two  helpless 
women,  unused  to  travel,  journey  with  her  to  the 
place  she  has  chosen — ' 

"  '  Do  your  plans  for  the  attractive  fisher-maiden 
also  include  marriage?'  she  interrupted  a  second 
time,  with  insolent  flippancy,  '  after  she  shall  have 
acquired  a  musical  education,  and  good  manners?' 

"  I  know  she  didn't  expect  the  sort  of  reply  my 
laddie  gave  her.  It  deepened  the  angry  hue  in  her 
cheeks. 

"  '  No,  my  plans  do  not  include  what  might  bring 
me  happiness.  I  might  be  tempted  to  make  a  try 
for  it  if  I  were  not  convinced  that  Miss  Brenson 
has  already  given  her  affections  to  one  more  suited 
to  her  than  an  old,  worry-seared  fellow  like  myself. 
Any  man  might  count  himself  fortunate  beyond  his 
deserts  to  win  a  wife  so  incapable  of  guile;  and  I 
propose  to  do  my  "  level  best"  to  fit  her  for  a  mar- 
riage with  the  man  she  admires.  He  shall  never 
have  cause  to  be  ashamed  of  his  "  fisher-maiden,"  if 
money  can  hinder  it! ' 

"  He  saw  the  question,  'Who  is  the  man?'  on  Ju's 
lips,  and  prevented  her  asking  it  by  turning  to  me 
and  adding: 

"  '  Please  go  to  see  Miss  Brenson  and  her  aunt 
to-morrow;  I  shall  want  to  hear  how  your  mission 
succeeded  before  I  sail,  day  after  to-morrow,  for 
France,  where  I  am  going  to  secure  proof  that  the 
note  I  found  at  the  cottage  tells  the  truth.'  Then 
to  James,  for  whom  he  had  rung: 

"  '  Tell  Donald  to  saddle  Orion  at  once,  and  bring 
him  to  the  door.  I  am  going  to  Bunker's  Cove,'  he 
explained  to  me  when  James  had  gone,  'to  make 
sure  that  Miss  Brenson  got  home  safely.  May  I  tell 
her  you  will  see  her  to-morrow?' 

"  'Yes,  and  give  her  my  love! '  I  answered  heartily, 
for  I  wanted  Ju  to  know  I  took  sides  with  my  laddie. 

"  Then  he  went  up  to  her  and  held  out  his  hand. 


384  SANDPEEP 

"  '  As  you  will  not  be  up  when  I  leave  in  the  morn- 
ing, Juliet,  I  will  bid  you  good-bye  now.' 

"  She  hesitated  a  moment,  then  gave  him  the  tips 
of  her  fingers  without  looking  up  at  him. 

" '  Don't  let  us  part  in  anger,  cousin,'  he  said 
kindly,  holding  the  reluctant  fingers  in  his  hand. 
'We  may  not  meet  again  for  many  months.' 

"  '  I  should  hope  that  it  might  be  never! '  she  ex- 
claimed with  fierce  anger,  starting  to  her  feet  and 
looking  at  him  with  eyes  aflame.  '  I  should  pray 
that  your  ship  might  go  down  to  the  bottom  of  the 
sea  with  you  if  I  thought  you  intended  to  disgrace 
our  name  a  second  time." 

"  Without  replying,  the  dear  lad  turned  and  left 
the  room,  and  a  few  moments  afterward  we  heard 
him  ride  away. 

"  '  Who  is  the  man,  Aunt  Elinor?' 

"Juliet  asked  her  question  of  me  when  the  sound 
of  hoof -beats  had  died  away;  but  not  for  worlds 
would  I  have  told  her  then,  what  we  —  you  and  I 
and  Brian  —  believe:  that  Keren  has,  unconsciously 
to  herself,  given  her  affections  to  Carrington,  and 
that  we  know  he  admires  her  intensely.  I  think 
now  that  we  three  conspirators  will  regret  having  sent 
Car  a-voyaging  around  the  world  in  order  to  cure 
his  infatuation.  I,  for  one,  hope  he  will  prove  in- 
curable, for  Keren  will  be  a  fit  wife  for  the  proudest 
in  the  land  when  my  lad  and  I  shall  have  done  with 
educating  her.  She  is  of  honest  parentage.  Many 
of  the  American  girls  espoused  by  foreign  noblemen 
are  of  no  better;  they  have  only  wealth  to  their 
advantage,  and  goodness  knows  Car  doesn't  need 
money  with  his  wife.  I  do  believe,  if  I  had  told  Ju 
what  Brian  has  planned  she  would  have  gone  clean 
daft  with  fury!  Instead,  I  told  her  a  deliberate  tara- 
diddle (I'm  a  diplomatist,  you  see!)  and  she  went 
off  to  her  room,  believing  me  as  ignorant  of  the 
'man's'  identity  as  herself. 

"  She  is  deeply  attached  to  Brian,  and  the  knowl- 


SANDPEEP  385 

edge  that  he,  at  least,  is  safe  from  the  wiles  of  the 
'  fisher-maiden/  may  help  her  to  endure  the  calamity 
of  her  brother's  marriage,  should  it  really  come  to 
pass. 

"It  was  after  midnight  when  Brian  returned  from 
his  second  ride,  the  home-coming  this  time  in  bright 
moonlight,  for  the  storm  had  passed  —  from  the 
heavens,  as  well  as  from  my  lad's  face.  He  was 
smiling  when  he  came  up  to  my  room  to  tell  me  of 
his  visit  to  Keren. 

"  He  had  found  her  weeping  broken-heartedly ;  but 
her  tears  vanished,  like  dew  under  sunshine,  when 
he  told  her  I  was  coming  to  see  her  in  the  morning. 
The  child  was  really  more  distressed  because  she  be- 
lieved I  was  displeased  with  her,  than  at  losing  her 
'good  chance'  at  the  Lodge!  Then  my  lad  and  I 
talked  over  his  plan  and  we  decided  that  it  would  be 
better  to  select  the  study-place  abroad,  where  the 
strange  pair,  the  antiquated  spinster  and  her  lovely 
niece,  would  arouse  less  curiosity  than  in  our  in- 
quisitive Yankee-land.  Moreover,  the  best  masters 
are  in  Europe,  and  my  lad  is  'sot'  on  having  only 
the  best  for  his  protegee  —  yours  no  longer,  my  good 
cousin!  When  the  matter  was  settled  —  near  to 
one  o'clock  —  and  my  lad  was  standing  in  front  of 
me,  with  my  two  hands  in  his,  for  good-bye  (he 
would  not  hear  to  my  getting  up  a  few  hours  later 
to  see  him  off),  I  said  to  him: 

"  '  May  I  ask  a  question  before  we  part?' 

"  'A  dozen,  as  many  as  you  like,  dear.' 

"  'I  looked  straight  into  his  eyes, always  honest  and 
truth-telling  to  me,  and  asked; 

"  'Did  you  "really  and  truly"  mean  what  you  said 
to  Ju  about  Keren,  that  you  would  marry  her  — 

"  'My  dear  aunt! '  he  interrupted,  smiling  indul- 
gently down  at  me,  'Ju  exasperated  me  to  such  a 
degree,  I  hardly  knew  what  I  was  saying.  No,  I  did 
not  mean  anything  of  the  sort.  I  have  done  with 
marrying.  Even  if  I  were  foolish  enough  to  enter- 


386  SANDPEEP 

tain  so  preposterous  an  i^ea,  I  don't  believe  I  could 
carry  it  out.  Car  would  win  against  me  every 
time! ' 

"  'Do  you  really  believe  the  girl  cares  in  that  way 
for  him?'  I  asked'. 

"  '  If  by  "  that  way  "  you  mean  well  enough  to  marry 
him,  yes  I  do!  She  would  be  a  freak-girl  if  she  did 
not  admire  him  greatly  after  the  pains  he  took  to 
let  her  know  how  much  he  admired  her.  Of  his 
feelings  toward  her,  you  may  judge  from  a  letter 
he  wrote  me  just  before  the  Nautilus  sailed  from 
New  York.  He  informed  me  that  he  was  fully 
aware  why  he  had  been  "shanghaied"  on  board  the 
yacht,  and  that  if  we  imagined  we  had  prevented 
him  from  wooing  and  winning  (the  handsome  rascal 
is  sure  of  his  quarry,  you  see!)  the  "most  beautiful 
creature  on  earth,"  we  were  very  much  mistaken. 
The  forced  voyage  would  strengthen,  instead  of  con- 
quer his  passion  and  determination. 

"  '  Therefore,  I  concluded  that  the  best  possible  way 
to  settle  my  account  would  be  to  fit  her  to  wed  with 
our  young  kinsman.  And  now,  dear,  that  you  know 
the  double  reason  I  have  for  educating  Keren,  you 
will  do  what  you  can  to  help  me,  won't  you?' 

"  '  That  I  will,  laddie,  and  with  great  pleasure,'  I 
answered.  'But  what  would  Juliet  say?' 

"  '  She  would  rage,  of  course;  so  let  her  remain  in 
ignorance.  What  I  am  planning  may  miscarry; 
Car's  ardor  may  cool  in  the  three  or  four  years  nec- 
essary for  Keren's  education;  and  she  may  find, 
when  she  gets  out  into  the  world,  that  there  are 
other  attractive  young  gentlemen.' 

"  Well,  my  lad  left  us  at  early  dawn,  and  several 
hours  later  I  drove  to  Bunker's  Cove  on  my  diplo- 
matic errand.  The  mission  was  not  nearly  so  diffi- 
cult as  I  anticipated.  '  Aunt  Hit '  proved  amenable. 
She  was  very  willing  to  leave  home  as  soon  as  she 
became  convinced  that  it  was  'Sandpeep's'  dearest 
desire. 


SANDPEEP  387 

"  So  it  is  arranged  that  We  leave  here  in  a  fortnight, 
'we'  meaning  Aunt  Hit,  Keren  and  myself.  Juliet 
refuses,  absolutely,  to  'travel  with  a  menagerie';  so 
she  goes  on  Saturday. 

"  After  a  few  days  in  New  York,  'we'  sail  for  Ger- 
many. I  shall  probably  decide  on  Munich  as  the 
study-place,  rent  a  house,  and  remain  with  Keren 
and  her  aunt,  at  least  until  they  get  used  to  life 
in  a  foreign  land. 

"I  shall  write  you  when  we  are  settled.  Ju  says 
my  hair  will  be  several  shades  whiter  when  I  have 
piloted  my  'Zoo'  into  the  haven  where  we  would  be! 

"  With  love  and  best  wishes  for  Car, 

"  Affectionately,  your  cousin, 

"  ELINOR." 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

JOY,  as  well  as  sorrow,  will  hinder  sleep.  Know- 
ing that  Miss  Warrington  was  not  displeased 
with  me  made  me  so  thankful  and  happy  I 
could  not  keep  my  eyes  shut  when  I  went  to  bed 
after  Mr.  Warrington  had  gone.  Puzzling  over 
what  it  could  be  Miss  Warrington  was  going  to 
ask  me  to  do  helped  to  keep  me  awake,  too. 

When  the  clock  struck  four,  the  hour  Mr. 
Warrington  was  to  start  to  the  Headlands,  my 
mind  started  with  him.  "Now,"  I  said  to  my- 
self, "he  is  driving  down  the  avenue.  Now,  he 
is  outside  the  gates;  now,  going  down  the  hill; 
now,  crossing  the  bridge;  now,  driving  down  the 
street  at  the  Headlands  to  the  landing;  now,  he 
is  saying  good-bye  to  Donald;  now,  he  is  going 
aboard  the  boat ;  now,  the  whistle  blows  — 
t-o-o-t!  —  now,  he  is  off!  Good-bye,  Mr.  War- 
rington, and  God  bless  you!  I  hope  you  will 
have  a  pleasant  voyage,  and  come  back  next 
summer. " 

In  my  mind  I  saw  the  boat  paddle  away 
around  the  Headlands,  and  then  —  my  ears 
heard  a  stir  in  the  spare-chamber.  I  was  out  of 
bed  in  a  wink,  and  had  on  my  clothes  and  was 
lighting  the  fire  in  the  stove  when  aunt  came  into 

388 


SANDPEEP  389 

the  kitchen.  But  didn't  she  look  "  clean  scun- 
dered, "  though,  when  she  saw  me? 

"My  soul  'n'  body,  Sandpeep!"  she  exclaimed. 
"What  be  you  doin'  to  home  now?" 

"I  am  here  to  stop  with  you  for  good  and  all," 
and  I  kissed  her  before  I  explained  that  I  had 
come  the  night  before,  but  had  not  wakened  her 
because  she  was  sleeping  so  soundly. 

"I  wonder  the  kerridge  didn't  waken  me,"  she 
allowed. 

"I  didn't  come  any  farther  in  it  than  to  the 
wood-road.  I  walked  home  from  there." 

I  told  her  that  half-story  because  I  did  not 
want  her  to  know  the  whole  truth;  and  I  had 
come  on  wheels,  as  far  as  the  Cove-road.  Story- 
telling isn't  so  difficult  after  one  has  had  some 
practice  and  I  have  had  considerable  since  I  got 
acquainted  with  those  foreigners  —  the  horse- 
riding  woman,  the  wonderful  leaper,  and  the  fire- 
jumper. 

"How  happened  you  to  lose  your  chance?" 
aunt  asked,  after  a  minute,  not  as  if  she  was 
the  least  bit  sorry  I  had  lost  it. 

I  told  her,  while  we  went  about  getting  break- 
fast, enough  of  what  had  happened  to  satisfy 
her  curiosity;  but  I  would  not  have  mentioned 
Mr.  Warrington's  coming  to  see  me,  if  she  had 
not  found  Orion's  hoof-marks  in  the  door-yard 
after  breakfast.  I  was  afraid  Miss  Warrington 
might  not  come  after  all,  and  I  could  not  have 


3QO  SANDPEEP 

endured  being  asked  so  many  questions  if  she 
had  not  come. 

"Sandpeep!"  —  I  left  my  dish- washing,  and 
went  to  the  door  —  "Here's  a  horse,  or  somethin' 
else  with  hoofs  on,  been  'n'  tromped  all  over  my 
boneset." 

There  was  no  explaining  away  the  horse-hoof 
marks,  so  I  told  her  the  owner  of  the  Lodge  had 
come  to  tell  me  his  aunt  "would  likely"  call  to 
see  us  very  soon! 

"You  hed  ought  to  waked  me  up  to  say  good- 
bye to  neighbor  Warrin'ton,"  she  allowed. 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  Miss  Warrington 
came.  I  had  been  watching  the  pasture-road, 
and  when  I  saw  the  cart  coming  I  ran  to  the 
gate. 

"You  dear,  good,  brave  girl!"  she  said,  after 
shaking  hands  with  me  and  kissing  my  cheek  — 
she  really  kissed  me!  —  "How  can  we  ever  thank 
you  enough?'" 

"By  never  thanking  me  at  all,  dear  Miss  War- 
rington," I  answered,  and  walked  on  air  beside 
her  toward  the  house.  • 

Before  we  got  up  to  the  stoop,  where  aunt  was 
waiting,  she  said,  in  a  tone  that  didn't  go  farther 
than  my  ear: 

"Have  you  quite  forgiven  me  for  my  unkind- 
ness  yesterday?" 

"There  isn't  any  yesterday!"  I  assured  her, 
"only  a  blessed  to-day!  How  glad  and  thankful 


SANDPEEP  391 

I  am  that  you  know  why  I  couldn't  answer  your 
question." 

"My  nephew  told  me  everything  last  night  — 
all  about  your  brave  conduct,"  —  she  didn't  call 
it  'bold!'  "I  shall  not  feel  that  you  have  en- 
tirely forgiven  me  until  you  agree  to  the  plans 
my  nephew  and  I  have  made  for  your  future." 

"Oh,"  I  told  her  joyfully,  "I  will  agree  to 
anything.  I  promised  Mr.  Warrington  I  would." 

"That's  my  good,  sensible  girl!"  squeezing 
my  arm  on  which  she  was  leaning.  "Now, 
you  must  help  me  to  win  your  aunt's  consent, 
too." 

"Aunt  will  do  whatever  I  wish,"  I  said,  for  I 
knew  the  dear  old  soul  would  refuse  me  nothing, 
except  to  wear  a  cap. 

"Good-morning,  Miss  Mehitable;  I  hope  you 
are  quite  well?" 

" Good-mornin'  to  you,  ma'am,  V  thank  you; 
all  of  me's  well  'ceptin'  my  j'ints,  which  hes  rheu- 
matiz.  Walk  in  V  lay  off  your  bunnit." 

"Thank  you,  I'll  come  in,  but  I  can  stay  only 
a  few  minutes."  Not  even  a  twinkle  in  her  eyes 
ever  lets  me  see  that  she  is  laughing  at  aunt, 
who,  I  know,  must  be  different  from  the  other 
old  ladies  she  is  acquainted  with.  "I  have  called 
this  morning  on  a  matter  of  business,"  she  went 
on  to  say,  when  she  was  sitting  in  aunt's  rocker; 
"business  and  friendship.  My  nephew  and  I 
think  your  niece's  wonderful  musical  talent  ought 


392  SANDPEEP 

to  be  cultivated.  She  ought  to  go  where  she  can 
study  under  the  best  teachers." 

"Dear  Miss  Warrington,"  I  interrupted  quickly, 
more  disappointed  than  I  could  have  said,  for  I 
had  hoped  that  she  might  ask  us  to  be  care- 
takers at  the  Lodge,  "you  are  very  kind,  and  I 
thank  you  and  Mr.  Warrington  very  much,  but 
you  know  I  told  you  why  I  could  not  leave  home  ?  " 

"All  that  has  been  considered,  my  dear,"  she 
answered,  smiling  at  me.  "You  are  not  to  be 
separated  from  your  aunt;  she  must  be  induced 
to  come  with  us — ' 

"Us?"  I  interrupted  a  second  time,  wondering. 

"Yes;  with  you  and  me  and  Felice!  We  four 
will  travel  together  to  the  place  I  shall  select  as 
the  best  for  your  studies." 

"To  Boston?"  I  exclaimed  delightedly. 

"Much  farther,  you  true  daughter  of  New 
England ! "  —  laughing.  ' '  Across  the  ocean .  You 
will  come  with  us,  won't  you,  Miss  Brenson?"  to 
dear  old  puzzled  aunt,  who  was  staring  first  at 
me,  then  at  Miss  Warrington. 

"Yes,  ma'am,  I  shell  be  pleased  to  go,  ef 
Sandpeep  wants  I  should.  Where  be  we 
a-goin'?" 

"Ever  and  ever  so  far  away,  aunt  dear,"  I  an- 
swered, knowing  she  hadn't  the  least  idea  what 
she  had  promised.  "  Far  away,  across  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  to  stay  for  months,  maybe  — " 

"Years,  my  dear,  years!     Of  course  your  aunt 


SANDPEEP  393 

will  be  glad  to  go,  knowing  it  will  be  for  your 
good.  Besides,  she  will  enjoy  seeing  new  places 
and  people,  and  she  will  not  get  homesick,  be- 
cause you  will  be  with  her  always." 

The  dear,  good  lady  certainly  knows  how 
to  get  around  folks.  Hardly  knowing  what  it 
really  meant  for  us,  aunt  and  I  promised  we 
would  go  with  her,  and  aunt  has  not  yet  fully 
realized  that  she  is  to  be  away  from  the  old 
home,  her  "garding,"  and  her  hens,  for  years. 
But  she  sha'n't  get  homesick  for  them  if  I  can 
hinder  it. 

"What  will  it  all  cost?"  I  asked  Miss  War- 
rington,  when  everything  had  been  settled. 

"Not  very  much,"  she  answered,  smiling. 
"Whatever  it  may  cost,  my  nephew  and  I  owe 
you  a  great  deal  more,  so  don't  let  that  ques- 
tion trouble  you." 

"But  I  mean  to  pay  it  all  back  when  I  get 
to  be  a  first-class  teacher  and  have  a  lot  of 
scholars,"  I  assured  her;  and  aunt  added  with 
quite  as  much  determination: 

"  'N'  I  shell  knit  neighbor  Warrin'ton's  winter 
socks  fur  him,  'n'  your  stockin's,  ma'am,  ef  you 
wear  knit  ones,  'n'  do  all  your  mendin'  'n'  his'n, 
too." 

' '  Thank  you  —  thank  you ! "  —  laughing.  ' '  That 
is  a  very  friendly  offer,  Miss  Mehitable.  Just  so 
soon  as  we  are  settled  in  our  new  home,  I  will  lay 
in  a  supply  of  wool  and  you  may  begin  at  once. 


394  SANDPEEP 

You,  my  dear,"  to  me,  a  smile  shining  in  her 
kind  eyes,  "will  have  to  study  diligently  while 
your  aunt  knits.  Now,  we  will  talk  about  our 
journey." 

Fairy  godmother  (I  believe  now  that  there  are 
fairy  godmothers  outside,  as  well  as  inside  of 
story-books),  did  most  of  the  talking,  and  when 
she  rose  to  go  back  to  the  Lodge  she  had  ar- 
ranged for  Felice,  her  maid,  to  come  that  after- 
noon to  measure  me  and  aunt  for  the  new  frocks 
we  were  to  have  for  the  wonderful  journey  to 
fairyland!  I  would  rather  have  had  frocks  from 
Boston  than  New  York,  but  I  didn't  give  another 
thought  to  the  place  after  Felice  had  gone  with 
her  list  of  figures;  there  was  too  much  else  for 
my  brain  to  do.  Aunt  had  the  frocks  on  her 
mind  a  deal  more  than  I  had;  for  that  night, 
when  we  were  undressing  —  later  than  for  many 
a  day !  —  she  let  her  skirts  drop  several  inches, 
until  the  hems  trailed  on  the  floor,  and  holding 
them  that  way,  paraded  up  and  down  the 
kitchen,  to  see  if  she  could  walk  with  her  "  petti- 
cuts  a-dragglin'  'round  her  feet  without  trompin' 
on  them."  The  vain  old  dear,  at  her  age,  too! 

Oh,  we  practiced  many  things,  aunt  and  I,  to 
get  used  to  the  way  we  should  have  to  live  at  that 
other  end  of  the  world.  Aunt's  "power  of  adapt- 
ability," as  Miss  Warrington  calls  it,  filled  me 
with  wonder  and  admiration.  If  she  had  been 
born  in  a  "tail-frock  and  silk  bunnit,"  she  could 


SANDPEEP  395 

not  have  worn  them  with  more  sweet  dignity  and 
ladyness  (I'm  sure  there  isn't  a  word  in  the  dic- 
tionary that  would  describe  the  way  aunt  looked 
in  her  new  gown  and  bonnet,  better  than  that 
one),  and  fairy  godmother  had  actually  coaxed 
her  into  wearing  a  neat  little  cap  that  covered  up 
the  wen  and  made  her  look  ever  so  sweet!  Truly, 
pretty  feathers  make  a  pretty  bird! 

I  didn't  "look  such  a  slouch,"  either  (that's 
what  Mandy  Bascom's  man  said  about  me,  the 
day  aunt  and  I  dressed  up  in  our  new  finery  to 
let  the  neighbors  see  it),  in  my  pretty  blue  cloth 
dress. 

It  is  truly  wonderful  how  fast  news  can  travel 
where  there  are  no  telegraph  wires.  The  birds 
in  the  air,  the  frogs  in  the  marsh,  the  bees,  and 
crickets,  must  have  found  out  what  was  going  on 
at  Brenson's,  and  have  sung,  croaked,  buzzed, 
and  chirped  it  all  along  shore,  else  how  could 
every  soul  have  learned,  before  the  next  morning 
after  Miss  Warrington  had  called,  that  "Aunt 
Hit  'n'  Sandpeep  was  goin'  to  Europe  with  old 
lady  Warrin'ton?" 

They  all  knew  it,  but  what  they  didn't  know 
and  couldn't  find  out  was,  what  had  "become  of 
the  folks  to  the  cottage  so  suddent"  "Rustica- 
tor  ways "  explained  it,  though,  as  many  other 
seemingly  unexplainable  mysteries  are  cleared  up. 

I  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Zemro,  telling  him  of 
our  good  luck  —  moonstone  luck !  —  and  that 


396  SANDPEEP 

Reuben  Wasgott  was  going  to  marry  Aramanda 
Stinson  and  live  in  our  house  while  we  were 
away,  and  that  he  would  take  care  of  the  sloop. 
I  told  him,  too,  that  if  he  should  come  back  to 
the  Cove  before  we  did,  he  should  use  the  Keren 
whenever  he  wanted  to,  that  I  knew  Dr.  Parke 
would  not  mind,  and  that,  as  I  expected  to  teach 
in  Boston,  or  somewhere  near  there,  when  I 
came  back  from  Europe,  I  wanted  him  always  to 
consider  our  house  a  stopping-place  whenever  he 
came  our  way. 

At  last  we  were  ready.  Only  folks  who  have 
never  stirred  more  than  a  few  miles  away  from 
their  own  door-yards,  to  whom  electric  lights  and 
street-cars  would  seem  like  magic  and  elevated 
railroad  trains  a  fever-dream  —  only  such  un- 
tra veiled  folks  will  understand  how  strangely  aunt 
and  I  felt.  But,  strange  and  wonderful  as  every- 
thing was,  only  once  did  my  smart  old  aunt 
forget  her  dignity,  the  you-ain't-goin'-to-ketch- 
me-lookin'-surprised-at-anythin'  air  she  had  put 
on  with  her  handsome  new  frock  and  bonnet. 

It  was  in  Boston,  the  wonderful,  often-dreamed- 
of ,  where  we  stopped  one  night,  in  a  big  hotel,  ever 
so  many  stories  high.  We  —  Miss  Warrington 
and  Felice  and  aunt  and  I  —  were  led  by  a  nice- 
looking  boy  into  what  I  thought  was  a  good- 
sized  closet,  with  a  plush-covered  seat  along  one 
side.  I  found  out  what  it  was  when  he  pulled 
an  iron  rod  and  we  began  to  go  up,  as  if  in  a 


SANDPEEP  397 

balloon,  I  guess  aunt  had  been  puzzling  over 
it,  too,  for  she  caught  hold  of  me,  and,  unlike 
me,  she  hadn't  the  least  idea  what  it  was,  and 
exclaimed,  scared  as  she  could  be,  "My  soul 
'n'  body,  Sandpeep!  Where  be  we  a-goin'?" 

Miss  Warrington  explained  that  we  were  in 
the  ' 'elevator,"  -the  "machine  which  carries 
lazy  city  people  up-stairs." 

"Thank  ye,  ma'am,"  aunt  said,  and  looked 
greatly  vexed  at  having  forgotten  her  dignity 
for  a  minute.  "I  was  afeared  't  was  a  b'loon. 
I  hain't  used  to  trav'lin'  in  sech  dangersome 
veehicles  's  b'loons." 

Miss  Warrington  did  not  smile;  neither  did 
Felice.  The  boy  did,  though  he  put  his  hand 
to  his  lips  to  hide  it.  When  we  were  alone  in 
the  handsome  big  bedroom,  she  said  to  me: 

"Sandpeep,  I'm  a  babtized  Christian  woman, 
'n'  I  hev  tried  to  tell  the  truth  all  my  life,  'n'  I 
hain't  tellin'  no  story  now  when  I  say  I  never  was 
so  scart  in  all  my  born  days,  es  I  was  when  thet 
allegator  began  to  fly  up.  I  was  jes'  sure  we'd 
land  nowheres!  Pd  ruther  crawl  up  a  steps,  ef 
't  was  long  's  from  the  Headlands  to  Bostin,  'n 
fly  up  in  a  allegator!" 

Nothing  could  induce  her  to  get  into  an  "alle- 
gator" again  after  she  had  gone  down  in  one. 
She  said  it  made  her  feel  too  much  as  if  she  was 
"comin'  all  apart  in  her  middle!" 

It  would  take  too  many  pages  to  write  down 


398  SANDPEEP 

everything  we  saw  in  Boston,  but  I  have  it  all 
stored  away  snug  and  tight  on  the  shelves  in  my 
memory  closet.  But  I  must  write  down  another 
funny  thing  about  aunt.  As  I  didn't  know  how 
to  put  out  the  electric  lights  in  our  room,  I 
stepped  over  to  ask  Miss  Warrington,  whose 
room  was  just  across  the  hall  from  ours.  I 
stopped  with  her  longer  than  I  intended  and 
when  I  went  back,  there  was  the  door  wide 
open,  but  no  aunt  anywhere  inside!  Miss  War- 
rington went  with  me  to  look  for  the  runaway, 
whom  we  found  coming  up  the  stairs,  greatly 
excited.  She  caught  my  arm  and  said: 

"Don't  you  go  down  them  steps,  Sandpeep, 
'n'  don't  you  go,  neither,  Miss  Warrin'ton." 

"Why,  what  is  down  there  we  ought  not  to 
see?"  Miss  Warrington  asked,  smiling.  I  think 
aunt  is  lots  of  fun  for  her,  though  she  never 
lets  us  see  it. 

"There's  a  disrespectable  woman  in  a  big 
room  down  there,  'n'  she's  most  naked.  She's 
a-playin'  on  the  pianny  'n'  a-screelin'  at  the  top 
of  her  voice,  like  you  do,  Sandpeep,  when  a 
cat'pillar  crawls  onto  you.  But  there  hain't  no 
cat'pillar  on  her,  for  she's  laughin'  at  a  lot  of 
men-folks  thet's  standin'  'round  the  pianny,  'n' 
she  with  nothin'  on  her  from  here  up,"  laying  her 
hand  on  her  bosom,  "  'ceptin'  two  little  narrer 
ribbins  'crosst  her  shoulders,  the  disrespectable 
hussy!" 


SANDPEEP  399 

Miss  Warrington  laughed,  then  explained  to 
aunt  that  the  "screelin'  "  woman  wasn't  "dis- 
respectable"  because  she  had  on  a  fashionable 
evening  dress,  and  that  she  was  most  likely  one 
of  the  celebrated  opera  singers  who  were  stop- 
ping at  the  hotel.  When  we  were  back  in  our 
room,  aunt  said  to  me,  very  solemnly: 

"Sandpeep  Brenson,  be  you  goin'  to  learn  to 
sing  like  that  screelin'  woman,  when  you  git  to 
Europe?" 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,  aunt,"  I  answered, 
just  as  solemnly;  "I  shall  have  to  learn  what- 
ever will  be  necessary." 

"Wall,"  after  thinking  for  a  minute,  "ef  you 
hev  to  screel  like  her,  I  hope  'n'  pray  you  won't 
never  hev  to  wear  a  frock  thet's  too  short  at  the 
wrong  end!" 

I  must  say  that  I  was  disappointed  with  Bos- 
ton. I  hadn't  expected  to  find  gold  and  silver  in 
the  streets,  but  I  had  expected  to  find  them  dif- 
ferent from  what  they  are,  not  crooked  as  sheep- 
paths,  and  not  nearly  as  wide  as  the  street  at  the 
Headlands;  and  so  crowded!  Wagons  and  car- 
riages and  cars  and  people,  all  going  in  different 
directions,  and  so  tangled  up  together,  I  wonder 
they  ever  get  themselves  untangled  and  get  to 
where  they  want  to  go.  I  hadn't  a  minute's 
peace  all  the  time  aunt  and  I  were  driving  to 
and  from  Bunker  Hill  Monument,  which  was 
the  sight  we  wanted  most  to  see,  for  fearing 


400  SANDPEEP 

we  should  be  run  into,  or  that  we  might  run 
over  and  kill  somebody.  Aunt  just  kept  her 
eyes  shut,  which  is  a  good  way  to  keep  from 
feeling  scared,  though  it  isn't  exactly  the  best 
way  to  get  an  idea  of  a  place. 

That  first  ride  in  the  railroad  train,  from 
Boston  to  New  York,  was  another  strange  ex- 
perience. It  made  me  dizzy,  and  aunt  said  she 
felt  "queer  to  her  stummick."  I  understand 
now  why  city  folks  are  always  in  such  a  hurry 
to  get  to  places.  It's  natural  they  shouldn't  be 
satisfied  to  just  sit  still  and  wait  for  the  breeze, 
after  having  got  used  to  fly  along  on  smooth 
rails,  whether  the  wind  blows  or  not. 

Miss  Warrington's  city  home  is  another  chap- 
ter in  our  wonder-book.  What  I  can't  under- 
stand is,  why  do  folks  have  such  lovely  homes 
when  they  don't  stay  in  them?  It  really  doesn't 
seem  fair  for  some  to  have  all  the  money  and 
others  none  at  all.  But,  there!  I  have  no  call 
to  complain,  I'm  sure;  am  I  not  to  have  the 
loan  of  all  the  money  I  shall  need  to  do  what  I 
have  wanted  to  do  all  my  life?  I  don't  believe, 
though,  I  shall  care  to  teach  singing- school.  I 
should  rather  teach  piano-playing  on  week-days, 
and  sing  in  a  church  on  Sunday.  Miss  War- 
rington  told  me  lots  of  men  and  women  get  paid 
for  singing  in  the  city  churches.  Wouldn't  Ara- 
manda  Stinson  open  her  eyes  to  hear  that! 

The  streets  I  saw  in  New  York  are  not  as 


SANDPEEP  401 

crooked  as  those  in  Boston,  but  they  are  just  as 
crowded.  When  the  end  of  the  week  we  spent 
there  came,  I  felt  that  if  something  should  turn 
up  to  send  me  back  to  Bunker's  Cove,  to  stay 
for  the  rest  of  my  life,  I  shouldn't  mind  it  so 
very  much,  for  I  should  have  enough  to  think 
and  talk  about  to  keep  me  from  getting  lonesome 
ever  again. 

The  voyage  across  the  ocean  wasn't  so  new  to 
us,  though  the  big  steamboat  was.  Aunt  is  sure 
that  it  is  "longer  'n  from  our  hen-pen  to  Sammy 
Perkinses  fish-house,  'n'  'most 's  wide  's  the  pas- 
tur'."  It  certainly  is  more  like  a  big  hotel  than 
a  boat. 

When  I  go  to  heaven,  which  I  hope  and 
pray  I  may,  when  my  time  comes  to  leave  this 
beautiful  world,  I  know  I  sha'n't  feel  any  more 
strange  than  I  did  in  Paris,  where  we  stopped 
another  week.  I  sha'n't  have  any  more  trouble 
understanding  the  angels  and  the  cherubim,  and 
finding  my  way  about  the  golden  streets,  than  I 
did  in  the  city  where  everybody  speaks  a  lan- 
guage I  can't  understand.  I  just  let  Felice  do 
all  the  talking,  and  had  her  tell  me  in  English 
what  everything  was.  Felice  is  a  very  nice  girl 
and  she  was  born  in  Paris. 

But  if  Paris  French  is  dreadful,  German  is 
just  awful!  "It  sounds  like  you  was  guggling 
your  throat,"  aunt  says,  and  it's  true.  How  I 
am  to  get  along  here  in  Munich,  when  Miss 


402  SANDPEEP 

Warrington  goes  back  to  America,  I  don't  know 
I'm  sure.  But  she  is  going  to  stay  until  we  get 
thoroughly  settled  and  acquainted  with  the  ways 
of  this  foreign  city.  Our  good  fairy  godmother 
has  rented  a  very  nice  house  for  us,  and  by  the 
time  she  is  ready  to  leave  us,  the  help  will  know 
what  we  need  without  our  having  to  "guggle" 
for  it. 

Letters  were  waiting  here  for  Miss  Warrington 
when  we  arrived.  Two  of  them  were  for  me; 
one  from  Dr.  Parke,  the  other  from  Mr.  Fair- 
boro,  who  wrote  only  a  few  lines  to  tell  me  how 
delighted  he  was  to  hear  from  "our  mutual 
friend"  the  doctor,  that  I  had  decided  to  study 
music  in  Germany  —  as  if  I  had  been  the  one 
to  decide  anything!  He  wished  me  success, 
and  hoped  I  might  be  ready  to  play  and  sing 
duets  with  him  when  he  came  to  Munich  in  the 
spring.  He  hoped,  too,  that  I  would  not  lose 
my  heart  to  any  of  "those  musical,  beer-drinking 
Dutchmen  "  —  which  is  not  at  all  likely !  —  and  was 
mine  "faithfully."  He  is  a  very  nice  gentleman! 

Doctor  Parke  wrote  that  he  had  heard  from  his 
cousins  all  about  the  "wonderful  events"  which 
had  happened  at  Surgecliff,  and  praised  me  for 
my  "noble  conduct."  He  hoped  I  would  be- 
come a  celebrated  "prima  donna,"  which  means 
a  "screelin'  woman,"  Miss  Warrington  says.  I 
hope  I  may,  if  prima-donnaing  pays  as  well  as 
teaching. 


SANDPEEP  403 

It  was  very  silly  of  me  to  get  red  in  the  face 
when  Miss  Warrington  asked  me  if  Mr.  Fairboro 
said  anything  about  coming  to  see  us  —  she 
called  him  "Carrington,"  which  I  think  such  a 
pretty  name.  I  gave  her  his  letter  to  read,  and 
when  she  handed  it  back  to  me,  she  said: 

"Car  is  a  nice  fellow!  We  shall  be  glad  to 
have  him  pay  us  a  visit — " 

"Are  you  really  thinking  of  staying  in  Munich 
until  spring?"  I  interrupted,  in  my  delight  for- 
getting all  about  "Car." 

"Yes,  I  think  it  will  be  necessary,"  smiling  at 
me,  "in  order  to  prevent  Car  from  taking  too 
much  of  your  time  from  your  studies!" 

I  assured  her  I  should  not  allow  him  or  any- 
body else  to  do  that;  and  I  couldn't  help  won- 
dering at  the  change  in  her.  There  was  a  time, 
not  such  a  great  while  ago,  when  she  spoke  and 
looked  very  differently  when  Mr.  Fairboro' s 
name  was  mentioned  between  us.  She  puzzles 
me  a  good  deal  lately. 

Nothing  is  allowed  to  interfere  with  my  studies, 
now  that  I  have  got  at  them  in  real  earnest;  too 
deeply  interested  to  think  as  often  as  I  ought  of 
poor  old  aunt,  all  by  herself  so  many  hours,  with 
no  one  to  talk  to  and  nothing  to  do  but  knit  — 
knit  —  knit.  Mr.  Warrington  will  never  be  able 
to  wear  out  half  the  socks  she  will  knit  for  him, 
while  I  am  getting  my  education. 

Fairy  godmother  has  already  got  acquainted 


404  SANDPEEP 

with  so  many  people,  Germans  and  Americans 
and  English,  that  her  " social  duties"  take  up 
too  much  of  her  time  to  leave  more  than  a  few 
minutes  now  and  then  to  talk  to  aunt  and  me. 

But  if  aunt  ever  feels  homesick  or  lonesome 
she  never  says  so  and  never  lets  me  see  how 
sorely  she  must  miss  her  hens  and  her  "gard- 
ing"  and  the  old  home,  where  she  lived  all  the 
seventy  years  of  her  life. 

After  study  hours,  Miss  Warrington  takes  us 
for  a  drive.  Of  course,  we  never  see  any  of  the 
people  who  call  on  her,  and  when  there  is  com- 
pany to  luncheon  or  dinner,  we  have  ours  in 
our  cozy  little  sitting-room,  with  the  neat  little 
maid,  whose  name  sounds  like  "Kitchen,"  to 
wait  on  us.  She  can't  say  anything  in  English 
but  "yes,  yes,"  "mees" —  that's  "miss" —  and 
"no,"  and  we  can't  "guggle"  to  her;  but  we 
manage  very  well  to  let  her  know  what  we 
want  by  making  motions. 

I  haven't  spoken  to  a  soul  but  aunt  and  Miss 
Warrington  and  Felice  since  we  landed.  I  can't 
even  talk  to  the  "Herr  Professors"  yet;  but  I 
am  going  to  begin  next  week  to  take  German 
and  French  lessons  from  a  lady,  Frau  Becke 
-aunt  calls  her  "Mrs.  Frowbecky,"  and  the 
Professor,  "Mr.  Hairprofessor."  Poor,  dear  old 
aunt!  she  is  so  funny! 

I  wonder  why  Miss  Warrington  never  intro- 
duces the  gentlemen  to  me  who  ride  on  horse- 


SANDPEEP  405 

back  beside  the  carriage  sometimes.  I  dare  say 
it's  "rusticator"  ways  not  to  introduce  them.  I 
wish  it  wasn't,  for  I  know  I  should  enjoy  talking 
to  those  who  speak  English.  I  think  they  would 
like  to  talk  to  me,  too,  for  I  have  caught  several 
of  the  younger  ones  looking  at  me  while  they 
were  speaking  to  Miss  Warrington. 

Miss  Warrington  has  received  several  letters 
from  Mr.  Warrington,  who  is  still  in  France, 
hunting  up  proofs,  and  in  every  one  of  them  he 
asks  to  be  kindly  remembered  to  me  and  aunt, 
and  hopes  I  am  making  "fine  progress"  in  my 
studies.  I  hope  so,  too,  I'm  sure,  for  I  do  want 
to  please  him  and  Miss  Warrington. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

A  WHOLE  month  since  I  told  anything  to 
my  dear  secret-book!  I  did  not  think  so 
many  weeks  would  pass  before  I  should 
open  it  again.  I  have  had  much  else  to  take  up 
my  time,  many  lessons  to  practice  and  study. 
But  now  I  am  going  to  write  down  some  of  the 
wonderful  events,  even  if  I  have  to  stay  up  all 
night  to  do  it. 

A  week  before  Christmas,  Mr.  Warrington 
wrote  to  his  aunt  that  the  business  which  had 
brought  him  to  France  had  been  settled  entirely 
to  his  satisfaction,  and  that  he  expected  to  pay 
her  a  brief  visit  before  returning  to  America. 

"Then  he  won't  stop  here  until  you  go  home?" 
I  said  when  she  had  read  the  letter  to  me. 

"No,  there  is  nothing  to  keep  him  here,"  she 
answered.  "I  know  he  must  want  to  get  back  to 
New  York  and  his  friends;  he  has  spent  so  much 
time  away." 

"You,  too,  dear  Miss  Warrington,  must  want 
to  go  back  to  your  friends.  You  have  made  so 
many  sacrifices  for  me  that  - 

"Tut-tut!"  she  interrupted.  "Sacrifices?  I 
haven't  made  one.  I  don't  intend  to  remain 
here  during  the  entire  period  of  your  studies. 

406 


SANDPEEP  407 

As  soon  as  you  know  enough  German  to  get  on 
comfortably  without  me,  I  intend  to  make  little 
tours  about  this  side  of  the  world  and  take  an 
occasional  run  over  to  New  York,  coming  back 
now  and  then  to  see  how  you  are  progressing." 

"You  are  so  good  to  me,"  I  said  gratefully;  "I 
don't  know  how  I  am  ever  to  pay  you  back — " 

"By  studying  diligently,"  she  interrupted, 
smiling.  "Herr  Czarka  told  me  yesterday  that 
you  possess  a  fortune  in  your  voice." 

"A  fortune!"  I  repeated.  "Do  you  think  he 
really  believes  it?" 

"He  is  too  severe  a  critic  to  commend  a  voice 
in  which  he  does  not  recognize  possibilities. 
How  should  you  like  to  become  a  prima  donna?" 

"If  it  is  going  to  be  possible  for  me  to  say,  I 
shall  choose  whichever  pays  better,  teaching  or 
prima-donnaing. ' ' 

She  laughed  heartily,  then  said: 

"Oh,  you  mercenary  child!  I  don't  believe 
you  care  for  fame,  the  applause  of  an  admiring 
public." 

"I  should  like  to  become  famous,  of  course," 
I  allowed,  "but  not  like  those  poets  and  artists 
who  nearly  starved  before  the  public  found  them." 

"You  are  practical,  whatever  else  you  may 
be,"  she  said  smiling.  "To  anyone  who  did 
not  know  you,  you  would  appear  mercenary;  but 
7  know  why  you  are  anxious  to  make  money; 
and  I  am  going  to  tell  you  now,  that  you  need 


4o8  SANDPEEP 

not  covet  wealth  in  order  to  pay  a  fancied  debt. 
Do  you  hear?"  —  pretending  to  be  very  cross. 
"We  owe  you  far  more  than  we  can  ever  hope 
to  repay.  Now,  not  another  word,  ever  again, 
about  wanting  to  make  money  to  pay  us.  Tell 
me,  does  the  thought  of  marriage  never  have  a 
place  in  that  strange  brain  of  yours?" 

"Are  you  thinking  of  Zemro  Haskell  ? "  I  asked. 

"Heavens,  no!"  with  a  look  as  if  she  had 
heard  something  disagreeable.  "I  am  thinking 
of  a  vastly  different  man,  a  man  better  suited 
to  what  you  will  be  when  you  have  completed 
your  studies.  A  young  gentleman  like  —  well, 
say  Carrington  Fairboro!" 

Good  gracious,  how  red  my  face  got  when  she 
said  that!  I  felt  as  if  the  blood  which  had 
poured  into  it  was  boiling  hot! 

"I  haven't  —  ever  —  thought  much  about 
marrying,"  I  answered,  "and  I  wouldn't  think 
that  way  about  Mr.  Fairboro,  anyway.  I 
wouldn't  for  the  world  do  anything  that  would 
displease  you  and  Mr.  Warrington." 

"My  nephew  and  I  now  view  matters  differ- 
ently, my  dear,"  she  allowed.  "We  should  not 
be  displeased  now  if  you  thought  'that  way,'" 
smiling,  "about  Carrington.  But  there  must  be 
no  thinking  of  marrying  for  ever  so  long.  Now, 
I  must  write  to  the  doctor.  If  you  intend  to 
answer  Carrington' s  letter,  I  will  send  yours 
with  mine  to  Bombay."  * 


SANDPEEP  409 

" Thank  you.  Do  you  think  I  ought?"  I 
asked  her. 

"Do  as  you  like,  my  dear.  The  only  com- 
mand I  lay  upon  you  is,  don't  let  letters  or 
anything  else  interfere  with  your  studies." 

"You  may  be  sure  I  sha'n't,"  I  answered, 
and  told  her  I  believed  I  wouldn't  write  to  Mr. 
Fairboro,  as  I  really  hadn't  the  time. 

What  I  didn't  tell  her,  though,  was,  that  even 
if  I  am  not  allowed  to  speak  about  paying  back 
what  I  owe,  I  intend  to  do  it  some  tune. 

Christmas  brought  a  great  disappointment,  as 
well  as  beautiful  gifts  to  me  and  aunt.  Mr. 
Warrington  did  not  get  here  in  time  to  eat  a 
"Yankee  dinner"  with  us,  as  we  had  expected. 
He  had  written  to  his  aunt  that  she  might  ex- 
pect him  to  dine  with  her,  that  he  would  arrive 
on  the  early  afternoon  train,  and  that  we  would 
all  go  to  the  opera  in  the  evening. 

If  anything  could  have  made  up  for  his  ab- 
sence from  our  splendid  dinner,  it  would  have 
been  the  sight  of  dear  old  aunt  in  her  handsome 
black  silk  dress  and  lace  cap  —  presents  from 
Miss  Warrington.  She  looked  like  a  picture, 
and  only  her  brown,  work-hardened  hands  and 
knotty  fingers  —  good,  useful  hands  —  showed 
that  she  was  Aunt  Hit  of  Bunker's  Cove,  instead 
of  a  fine  old  lady  out  of  a  gold  frame!  Aunt  is 
one  of  those  persons  who,  though  they  know 
hardly  anything,  can  look  as  if  they  know  a 


4io  SANDPEEP 

lot,  but  do  not  care  to  take  the  trouble  to  tell 
it  to  everybody.  She  is  a  smart  old  dear,  is 
Aunt  Hit! 

My  own  gifts  were  a  dear  little  gold  watch, 
and  a  perfectly  lovely  pale  green  —  Felice  calls 
it  "Nile"  green  —  crape  frock.  Miss  Warring- 
ton  had  it  made  for  me  to  wear  to  our  Christmas 
dinner  and  to  the  opera  afterward.  I  hated  to 
put  it  on  for  dinner,  I  was  so  afraid  I  might 
drop  something  on  it,  but  fairy  godmother  al- 
lowed that  it,  as  well  as  aunt's  pretty  black  silk, 
had  been  ordered  for  just  such  occasions;  so  we 
had  to  dress  up  in  them  to  please  her.  She 
wore  a  handsome  black  lace  dress.  If  I  hadn't 
known  who  it  was,  I  should  not  have  recognized 
the  pretty  girl  that  looked  at  me  from  the  long 
looking-glass  in  Miss  Warrington's  room,  where 
Felice  took  me  to  look  at  myself  after  she  had 
helped  me  dress. 

Fine  feathers  had  made  a  powerful  fine  bird 
of  me!  and  when  I  was  all  ready  to  start  to  the 
opera,  white  kid  gloves  on  my  hands  and  hair 
piled  on  top  of  my  head  in  a  way  I  never  could 
have  done  it  myself,  with  a  lovely  white  cloth 
cape  around  my  shoulders,  and  a  white  fan,  all 
presents  from  fairy  godmother,  nobody  would 
have  known  me  for  Sandpeep  Brenson,  any 
more  than  they*  would  have  known  aunt. 

Aunt  couldn't  be  coaxed  to  go  to  the  opera 
with  us.  She  wasn't  "goin'  to  listen  to  a  lot  of 


SANDPEEP  411 

screelin'  weemen  like  the  one  she  see  to  Bostin, 
thet  hedn't  hardly  any  close  on!"  so  Miss  War- 
rington  and  I  went  in  a  carriage  by  our  two 
selves,  and  I  know  she,  as  well  as  I,  sadly  missed 
the  one  we  had  expected  would  be  with  us. 

Such  a  lot  of  lights  as  there  were  in  that  beau- 
tiful big  hall!  And  people!  One  would  have 
thought  nobody  had  stopped  at  home!  When 
the  big  curtain  was  rolled  up,  I  thought  I  was 
looking  at  real  woods,  and  if  there  had  been 
moss  under  them,  instead  of  a  floor,  not  even 
Miss  Warrington  could  have  made  me  believe 
that  I  was  not  looking  out  of  doors. 

Oh,  everything  was  perfectly  grand,  the  music, 
the  singing,  the  beautiful  scenery!  The  only 
thing  I  was  not  perfectly  delighted  with  was  that 
the  opera  people  talked  German  to  each  other 
when  they  weren't  singing.  I  didn't  mind  their 
singing  in  German,  for  it's  the  music  of  it  that 
matters. 

Several  times  I  caught  Miss  Warrington  look- 
ing at  me  and  I  wondered  if  I  were  behaving 
properly.  I  did  just  what  everybody  else  did  — 
sat  still  and  listened  while  the  curtain  was  up, 
and  the  opera  people  were  singing;  and  fanned 
myself  —  though  I  wasn't  a  bit  too  warm  — 
when  it  was  down.  I  didn't  clap  my  hands 
though,  when  the  rest  did,  for  I  was  afraid  of 
splitting  my  gloves.  Dear  knows,  I  wanted, 
badly  enough,  to  show  how  pleased  I  was;  but 


4i2  SANDPEEP 

I  wouldn't  even  let  myself  cry  for  fear  the 
tears  might  fall  on  my  frock  and  spot  it. 

When  we  were  getting  ready  to  go  home,  and 
Miss  Warrington  was  helping  me  put  on  my 
cape,  she  said: 

"I  am  afraid  I  made  a  great  mistake  bringing 
you  here  this  evening,  my  dear." 

"Didn't  I  behave  properly?"  I  asked,  ready 
to  cry. 

"Yes,  you  silly  child,  of  course  you  behaved 
properly.  I  mean  that  you  attract  too  much  at- 
tention. You  are  too  pretty,  but  you  can't  help 
that!"  and  she  gave  my  shoulder  a  little  slap. 

"I  shouldn't  want  to  help  it  if  I  could,"  I 
answered,  and  felt  glad  all  over.  I  think  I 
look  nice  in  this  lovely  dress,  too.  I  only  wish 
Mr.  Warrington  could  have  seen  me  in  it!  I 
guess  he  would  have  needed  to  be  introduced 
to  this  Sandpeep  Brenson. 

I  was  sitting  in  the  carriage  when  Miss  War- 
rington stepped  back  to  hear  what  two  gentle- 
men standing  near  the  carriage,  were  saying. 
After  listening  for  a  minute,  she  spoke  to  one  of 
them,  and  after  he  had  answered,  she  came  to 
the  carriage  door  and  said  very  quietly,  but 
her  face  was  white  as  chalk:  "There  has  been 
an  accident  on  the  railway,  Keren.  I  am  going 
with  Count  von — "  I  don't  know  how  to  spell 
the  rest  of  his  name  —  "to  the  railway  station 
to  make  inquiries  about  it." 


SANDPEEP  413 

"Please  let  me  go  with  you,"  I  said.  I  was 
going  to  get  out  of  the  carriage,  but  she  pushed 
me  back  to  the  seat,  and  said: 

"No,  you  must  go  home.  The  count  will  call 
a  cab  for  me." 

"But  please,  dear  Miss  Warrington,"  I  ex- 
claimed, and  caught  hold  of  her  arm,  "tell  me 
if  anything  has  happened  to  Mr.  Warrington?" 
I  could  hardly  speak. 

"He  may  not  have  been  on  the  wrecked  train. 
We  can  only  pray  that  he  was  not,  though  it  was 
the  one  he  expected  to  take.  Several  cars  were 
burned,  with  their  passengers!" 

Then  she  hurried  away  with  the  count,  and  I 
was  truly  thankful  to  drive  away  from  the  star- 
ing "Herrs"  who  had  gathered  around  the  car- 
riage door.  I  wanted  to  scream,  to  beat  my 
hands  together,  to  do  something  to  rid  myself  of 
the  dreadful  choking  in  my  throat.  I  could  not 
breathe.  I  lowered  both  windows,  but  not  even 
the  ice-cold  air  helped  me.  When  the  carriage 
stopped  in  front  of  our  house,  I  got  out,  stag- 
gered across  the  pavement,  up  the  steps  to  the 
front  door,  where  "Kitchen"  was  standing  to  let 
me  in.  She  said  something  about  a  "Gnadiger 
Herr"  but  I  was  too  near  suffocating  to  see  or  hear 
anything  but  cars  burning  up,  and  awful  screams. 

Hardly  knowing  what  I  was  doing,  I  dragged 
myself  up-stairs  to  the  door  of  Miss  Warrington's 
sitting-room.  I  opened  it,  and  stopped  suddenly 


414  SANDPEEP 

with  the  knob  in  my  hand  —  I  had  to  hold  it, 
to  keep  from  falling  down  —  when  a  tall  figure 
rose  from  the  arm-chair  in  front  of  the  fireplace 
and  turned  toward  me.  Only  the  coals  in  the 
grate  lighted  the  room,  and  their  faint  glow  made 
the  figure  seem  all  the  more  like  the  spirit  I  be- 
lieved it;  but  the  voice  told  me  that  what  had 
made  me  want  to  die  was  not  true.  My  good, 
kind  friend,  Mr.  Warrington,  was  not  in  the 
burning  cars!  It  was  not  his  spirit  I  saw,  but 
his  own  living  self. 

"I  beg  pardon,"  he  said,  and  I  knew  he  did 
not  recognize  me,  and  no  wonder!  "The  servant 
told  me  this  was  my  aunt's  —  Miss  Warrington's 

—  room,  and  —  why!"  in  great  surprise,  limping 
toward  me  —  I  could  not  have  moved  away  from 
the  door-knob,  for  I  seemed  to  have  died  —  but 
not  of  grief!  —  "I  believe  it  is  Miss  Brenson! 
How  wonderfully  you  have  changed!    But  what 
is  the  matter?    Are  you  ill?"  he  asked,  when  I 
made  no  move  to  lay  my  hand  in  the  one  he  held 
toward  me. 

"N —  n  —  o,  sir,"  —  I  had  to  force  myself  to 
answer,  "I  —  we  heard  —  the  dreadful  accident 

—  I  thought  you  —  were  burned  —  dead  —  oh,  it 
was   horrible  —  horrible!"     and    I    covered    my 
eyes  with  my  hand. 

"Where  is  my  aunt?"  I  heard  him  ask  after 
a  minute,  and  uncovering  my  eyes  I  saw  that  he 
had  turned  on  the  lights  and  was  looking  at  me. 


SANDPEEP  415 

"She  went  —  to  the  railway  station  —  to  ask 
about  the  accident." 

"Didn't  she  receive  my  telegram  this  after- 
noon, explaining  that  I  should  be  delayed?"  he 
asked,  still  looking  at  me  as  if  he  were  trying  to 
see  what  was  at  the  back  of  my  mind. 

"No,  sir;  we  only  heard  about  it  when  we 
were  leaving  the  opera — " 

"What  inexcusable  neglect!"  he  interrupted, 
the  wrinkle  showing  between  his  eyebrows.  "I 
requested  that  the  message  be  sent  at  once,  for 
I  knew  how  anxious  my  aunt  would  be  when  she 
heard  of  the  accident.  I  arrived  here  only  a  few 
minutes  after  you  had  started  to  the  opera  house, 
and  would  have  followed,  but  I  am  a  little  stiff 
from  the  severe  shaking  up.  You  poor  child," 
taking  both  my  hands  in  his,  "you  look  half- 
frightened  out  of  your  senses  —  too  frightened  to 
bid  me  welcome,  to  wish  me  a  merry  Christmas, 
even  if  it  is  near  to  midnight!" 

Though  he  was  joking,  I  could  not  smile.  I 
could  only  say,  very  soberly: 

"I  was  horribly  frightened.  I  believed  I  was 
dying  when  I  saw  you;  I  thought  you  were  a 
spirit." 

"Of  course  you  did,  believing  me  from  the 
spirit-land!"  he  answered  heartily,  holding  my 
hands  close.  "Anyone  would  have  been  fright- 
ened, you  tender-hearted  child!" 

"Yes  they  would,  and  —  oh,  Mr.  Warrington," 


416  SANDPEEP 

looking  up  into  his  kind  face  through  the  tears 
which  were  filling  my  eyes  —  I  never  once 
thought  then  that  they  might  spot  my  dress!  — 
"I  can't  describe  how  I  felt.  I  do  really  and 
truly  believe  I  should  have  died,  if  you  hadn't 
spoken  when  you  did." 

He  looked  closely  at  me  for  a  minute  before  he 
said: 

"Your  attachment  to  your  friends  is  very 
strong,  my  dear  child.  I  hope  most  sincerely 
you  may  not  again  be  forced  to  grieve  unnec- 
essarily for  any  of  them.  Let  us  both  hope  that 
our  wanderers,  the  doctor  and  Carrington,  may 
reach  their  journey's  end  without  accident." 

"I  hope  so,"  I  agreed  heartily.  "I  should  be 
very,  very  sorry  if  anything  happened  to  them; 
but  I  don't  believe  I  should  want  to  die  if  I 
thought  I  should  never  see  them  again." 

"You  would  have  wanted  to  die  if  I  had  not 
escaped  from  the  wrecked  cars  —  really  and 
truly?"  he  asked,  and  he  looked  strangely  at  me. 

"I  don't  think  so,  I  know  it,"  I  answered 
decidedly,  and  it  was  God's  truth,  too.  I  don't 
care  if  it  was  silly  to  tell  him  so.  "I  know  now 
how  much  —  how  very  much  —  I  have  wanted  to 
see  you  again.  I  have  looked  forward  to  seeing 
you  as  the  sailor  looks  forward  to  a  safe  harbor, 
when  he  is  weathering  a  gale  at  sea,  ever  since 
the  night  you  came  to  Bunker's  Cove  to  say 
good-bye,  and  to  ask  me  to  promise  to  do  what 


SANDPEEP  417 

your  aunt  would  ask  me  the  next  day  —  promise 
to  do  what  I  had  wished,  longed,  prayed  for  all 
my  life,  'most!  I  know  now  that  I  study  so  hard, 
try  so  hard  to  learn,  because  I  want  to  please 
you  and  that  it  is  because  I  want  you  to  be 
happy  I  try  not  to  care  that  you  are  going  to 
—  going  to—' 

"Go  on;  what  am  I  going  to  do?"  he  asked, 
keeping  hold  of  my  hands,  when  I  wanted  to 
cover  my  red  face  with  them. 

"To  —  marry  —  your  beautiful  cousin,"  I  said, 
very  low.  I  hung  my  head  —  I  could  not  look 
at  him. 

"You  think  I  am  going  to  marry  my  cousin 
Juliet?" 

"Yes,  sir;  all  the  help  at  the  Lodge  said  so 
and  —  oh,  please,  Mr.  Warrington,  don't  make 
me  tell  you  anything  more,  I  am  too  ashamed." 
I  wanted  to  run  out  of  the  room,  but  he  would 
not  let  go  of  my  hands. 

"No,  my  dear  Keren,"  he  said,  oh,  so  kindly; 
"I  will  not  make  you  tell  me  anything  more  — 
now.  I  will  not  ask  you  any  more  questions, 
only  assure  you  that  I  am  not  going  to  marry 
my  cousin—" 

"Then  won't  you  stop  here  with  us  for  a  little 
while  before  you  go  back  to  New  York?"  I 
interrupted,  joy  giving  me  courage  to  look  at 
him  again. 

"Not  for  a  'little'  while,"  he  answered,  and 


4i8  SANDPEEP 

smiled;  "for  a  long  while!  I  think  you  —  and 
Aunt  Elinor  —  need  me  to  watch  over  you ! 
Now,  I  must  go  to  the  station  and  bring  my 
aunt  home,  and  do  you  go  straight  to  bed. 
Good-night,  little  mermaid!" 

He  looked  at  me  as  if  he  were  going  to  say 
something  else,  but  he  did  not,  just  let  go  my 
hands  and  limped  out  of  the  room. 

I  went  on  to  my  own,  where  I  kissed  the 
moonstone  on  my  finger. 

From  Miss  Elinor  Warrington,  Munich,  Ger- 
many, to  Dr.  Lemuel  J.  Parke,  Bombay. 

"DEAR  COUSIN  LEM, — 

"  I  know  you  will  be  surprised  to  find  two  letters 
from  me  awaiting  you  at  Bombay.  The  cause  of 
this  '  superfluous  literature '  —  as  it  pleases  you  to 
call  the  '  majority  of  the  feminine  screeds '  —  is 
that  I  simply  cannot  wait  until  you  reach  your  next 
port,  to  tell  you  a  most  astounding  piece  of  news. 
So  I  send  this  'screed'  after  the  other  I  mailed  to 
you  only  two  days  ago. 

"That  Juliet's  sight  is  keener,  after  all,  than  ours  — 
yours  and  mine  and  Brian's  —  the  events  of  the 
past  night  prove  conclusively.  You  will  have  read 
in  my  other  letter  —  that  is,  if  you  have  opened  it 
first  —  of  the  elaborate  plans  I  made  for  our  United 
States  Christmas  dinner  in  this  foreign  city,  at  which 
I  expected  my  laddie  to  preside,  and  the  opera  after- 
ward. "We  had  the  dinner  as  arranged,  but  no  Brian. 
He  was  delayed  by  a  terrible  accident  to  his  train, 
of  which,  however,  we  heard  nothing  —  not  having 
received  the  telegram  he  sent  me  —  until  we  were 
leaving  the  opera  house  to  come  home.  I  wish  you 


SANDPEEP  419 

could  have  seen  Keren;  she  was  absolutely  bewil- 
dering! I  gave  her  a  pretty  evening  frock  for  a 
Christmas  present,  which  she  wore  to  dinner  —  un- 
willingly, for  she  was  afraid  of  getting  a  'spot'  on 
it! — and  afterward  to  the  opera;  and  I  don't 
wonder  the  spectacled  Teutons  directed  their  atten- 
tion toward  our  box  as  frequently  as  toward  the 
stage.  Even  in  her  plain  street  frock  the  girl's  un- 
usual beauty  attracts  so  much  attention  that  when 
she  and  her  aunt  drive  with  me,  all  my  'diplo- 
macy' is  required  to  fend  off  the  men  who  crowd 
about  our  carriage. 

"However,  there  will  be  a  second  dragon  hereafter, 
to  help  me  ward  off  admirers,  and  this  is  what  I 
write  to  tell  you. 

"When  we  were  leaving  the  opera  house  to  come 
home,  I  overheard  two  gentlemen,  acquaintances, 
talking  about  a  terrible  disaster  to  the  "schnell- 
zug";  and  knowing  that  Brian  had  intended  to  take 
that  train,  you  may  imagine  how  horribly  fright- 
ened I  was.  It  had  not  occurred  to  me  that  such  a 
calamity  might  have  caused  laddie's  non-appear- 
ance. I  attributed  it  to  the  usual  '  unrelyuponable- 
ness '  —  how  clever  of  De  Quincy  to  have  invented 
that  lovely  long  word!  —  of  your  sex.  Well,  I  sent 
Keren  home  in  the  carriage  and  went  with  Count 
von  Stufenhausen  in  a  cab  to  the  railway  station. 

"  My  own  fear  and  agitation  hindered  me  from 
noticing  the  effect  of  the  terrible  news  upon  Keren. 
She,  too,  believed  that  Brian  was  among  the  victims 
burned  to  death  in  the  wrecked  cars,  and,  thinking 
him  dead,  you  may  imagine  her  feelings  when,  on 
entering  my  sitting-room,  which  was  only  faintly 
lighted  by  the  coals  in  the  grate,  she  saw  him  rise 
from  the  arm-chair  in  front  of  the  fireplace  and 
turn  toward  her.  If  Keren  could  understand  Ger- 
man, she  would  not  have  imagined  she  beheld  a 
ghost;  for  the  maid  informed  her  that  the  "Gnadi- 
ger  Herr"  had  arrived  and  was  in  my  sitting-room. 


420  SANDPEEP 

"And  now,  at  last,  I  come  to  the  most  astonishing 
part  of  my  story. 

"Keren  was  naturally  frightened  when  she  saw 
Brian,  and  in  her  agitation  betrayed  the  deep  and 
reverential  affection  she  entertains  for  him,  which 
only  Juliet's  jealous  eyes  were  keen  enough  to; 
detect.  That  the  child  is  wholly  unaware  of  the 
real  character  of  her  affection,  I  am  confident,  as. 
is  Brian;  but  of  its  existence  he  is  now  as  certain 
as  is  Juliet. 

"He  came  to  the  railway  station  for  me,  and  when 
we  were  driving  home,  he  said  suddenly: 

"'Aunt,  we  have  all  made  a  great  mistake  in 
believing  our  protegee  attached  to  Car.' 

"'What  makes  you  think  so?'  I  asked,  surprised 
that  he  should  choose  to  discuss  such  a  subject  then; 
I  had  not  yet  recovered  from  my  terrible  fright. 

'"Something  happened  this  evening  which  con- 
vinced me  that  we  need  take  no  further  pains  to 
educate  her  with  the  view  of  making  her  a  fit  wife 
for  him.' 

'"You  think  she  doesn't  care  enough  for  him? '  I 
asked. 

1 '  I  know  she  doesn't,    he  answered  with  decision. 

'"Then,  that  question  settled  —  to  your  entire 
satisfaction  I  see  —  what  do  you  propose  to  do  ? 
train  her  for  the  operatic  stage?  Herr  Czarka  says 
there  is  a  fortune  in  her  voice.' 

"'I  have  no  doubt  she  has  a  great  talent;  but  she 
is  not  going  to  make  use  of  it  on  the  stage.  I  am 
going  to  marry  her  if  she  will  have  me.' 

' '  Brian!     Laddie! '      You    may    believe    I    was 
amazed,  'clean  scundered,'  as  Aunt  Hit  would  say. 
' '  I  mean  it,'  he  assured  me,  and  I  could  see  that 
he  did. 

"Well — '  I  had  to  draw  a  long  breath  before  I 
could  go  on  to  say:  'I  am  amazed!  Though  I  was 
half  inclined  for  a  little  while  to  believe  Juliet  when 
she  told  me  Keren  adored  you,  I  never  dreamed  that 


SANDPEEP  421 

your  feelings  toward  her  were  warmer  than  those  of 
a  benefactor  for  his  beneficiary.' 

" '  I  was  not  aware  of  the  true  state  of  my  regard 
for  her,  either,  until  this  evening — ' 

'"I  thought  you  loved  Juliet  and  intended  to 
marry  her,'  I  interrupted. 

"'I  put  that  youthful  madness  out  of  my  heart 
long  ago,  dear  aunt;  and  I  convinced  myself  last 
summer  that  not  a  spark  of  it  remained  alive.  Now, 
mind  you,  dear,'  taking  my  hand  and  pressing  it, 
'  our  girl  is  not  to  know  my  intentions  concerning 
her  future.  She  must  be  left  entirely  free  to  choose 
it  for  herself  —  whether  she  will  have  me  for  her 
man,  or  Car,  or  mayhap  some  other  fortunate 
fellow.  Car  must  have  his  innings,  too.  We  will 
invite  him  here  for  a  long  visit,  and  Keren  shall 
have  ample  time  to  prove  her  heart.  She  shall  not 
be  influenced  one  way  or  another! ' 

"  There,  Lem,  that  is  my  wonderful  news,  and  can 
you  guess  for  whom  the  wedding-bells  will  ring? 
"Affectionately  your  cousin, 

"  ELINOR.  " 


END 


A  New  Novel  by  the  Author  of  "  Quo  Vadis" 


ON  THE  FIELD 
OF  GLORY 


By   HENRYK   SIENKIEWICZ 

Author  of  "Knights  of  the  Cross,"  "  With  Fire  and  Sword," 
"  The  Deluge,"  "  Quo  Vadis,"  etc. 

Translated  from  the  Polish  by  Jeremiah  Curtin 
12mo.     Decorated  Cloth,  $1.50 


This  important  work  is  the  only  one  written  by  this 
renowned  author  since  the  year  1900,  when  he  completed 
"Knights  of  the  Cross."  The  scenes  are  laid  in  Poland, 
and  the  period  is  the  reign  of  the  famous  King  John 
Sobieski,  just  before  the  Turkish  invasion  in  1682  to  1683. 
Sienkiewicz  has  woven  a  wonderful  romance  of  greafc 
brilliancy  and  strong  character  drawing,  and  in  no  book 
by  the  author  of  "  Quo  Vadis  "  has  he  displayed  his  great 
genius  more  strikingly. 

He  tells  a  charming,  tender,  and  passionate  love-story 
of  remarkable  intensity,  and  gives  the  reader  acquaintance 
with  characters  not  inferior  in  vigor  and  interest  to  those 
of  the  great  trilogy.  The  complete  work  has  been  trans- 
lated by  Jeremiah  Curtin. 


LITTLE,   BROWN,   &   CO.,   PUBLISHERS 
264,  WASHINGTON  STHEET,  ROSTOV 


A  Distinctive  Modern  Romance 


MAID  OF  ATHENS 


By  LAFAYETTE   McLAWS 
Author  of  "  When  the  Land  Was  Young"  etc. 

12mo.     Decorated  Cloth,  $1.50 


A  romance  of  great  charm  dealing  with  Lord  Byron's 
career  in  Greece,  his  poems  "Thyrza"  and  "Maid  of 
Athens"  furnishing  the  talented  novelist  with  the  germ 
of  a  love-story  which  will  appeal  to  many  besides  those 
Interested  in  the  poet's  romantic  life.  The  scenes  on  the 
Bosphorus  and  in  the  Imperial  harem  at  Stamboul,  the 
attempted  rising  of  the  Greeks  against  the  Turks,  and 
Lord  Byron's  love  for  the  "  Maid  of  Athens,"  are  pictured 
with  great  vividness  and  power,  and  Thyrza,  the  daughter 
of  a  Greek  patriot,  is  one  of  the  most  lovable  creations  of 
modern  romantic  fiction. 

,  Headers  of  "  "When  the  Land  "Was  Young  "  need  not  be 
told  that  Miss  McLaws  is  gifted  with  a  wealth  of  creative 
imagination.  Her  new  book  is  laden  with  the  atmosphere 
of  the  early  nineteenth  century,  and  it  is  a  living,  breathing 
woman  whose  love  and  sorrows  thrill  us  in  this  story. 
Byron  himself,  though  vividly  present  in  these  pages,  is 
second  in  interest  to  the  lovely  Greek  girl  Thyrza,  who  is 
depicted  with  a  sympathetic  touch  due  perhaps  to  the 
author's  Southern  birth  and  temperament. 


LITTLE,   BROWN,   &   CO.,   PUBLISHER* 
254  WASHINGTON-  STREET,  BOSTON 


An  Ingenious  and  Engrossing  Romance 


THE 
PRINCESS    THORA 


By  HARRIS  BORLAND 

Author  of  "  Dacobra."  Illustrated.    Igmo.    $1.50 

A  REMARKABLY  absorbing  romance,  conceived  and  plan- 
J\.  ned  with  fine  imagination,  yet  carried  out  with  all  the 
vivid  actuality  and  plausibility  of  the  most  prosaic  "  detective  " 
story.  The  nearest  counterpart  of  this  engrossing  and  very 
unusual  narrative  is  perhaps  to  be  found  in  the  work  that  first 
made  Rider  Haggard  famous,  though  the  story  owes  literally 
nothing  to  anything  that  has  gone  before,  so  startlingly  novel  is 
its  theme  and  so  boldly  convincing  is  its  execution. 


Richard  Le  Gallienne's  Nen  Book 


PAINTED  SHADOWS 


By  the  Author  of  "The  Love-Letters  of  the  King,"  etc. 
12mo.     $1.50 

MR.  LE  GALLIENNE'S  new  book  displays  in  a  remarkable 
degree  his  fine  imagination,  charming  style,  and  the  high 
quality  of  his  verse.  "  The  Youth  of  Lady  Constantia,"  "  The 
Wandering  Home,"  "The  Shadow  of  the  Rose,"  "Beauty's 
Portmanteau,"  and  "Old  Silver"  are  equal  to  his  best  work, 
and  the  story  which  bears  the  title  "  Poet  take  Thy  Lute  "  will 
appeal  especially  to  those  who  love  what  is  best  and  most  beau- 
tiful in  literature. 

LITTLE,    BROWN,    &    CO.,    PUBLISHERS,    BOSTON 
At  all  Booksellert 


A  Poiverful  Novel  of  Married  Life 


THE  BALLINGTONS 


By  FRANCES  SQUIRE 
445  pages.     19mo.    Decorated  cloth,  $1.50 


Incontestably  the  work  of  a  genius.  — Buffalo  News. 

A  masterly  study  of  certain  problems  of  married  life.  — 
Chicago  Record-Herald. 

A  strong  story  of  American  social  life.  Thoughtfulness 
of  purpose,  intensity  of  conviction,  and  vigor  of  treatment 
are  conspicuously  apparent. — New  York  Tribune. 

One  of  the  most  brilliant  novels  of  the  season.  —  Toledo 
Blade. 

Treats  of  a  fresh  and  vital  theme  in  a  daring  manner.  — 
Louisville  Times. 

It  is  strong,  fresh,  original,  purposeful,  and  it  is  full  of 
human  interest.  —  Detroit  Free  Pre»s. 

A  wonderfully  true  presentation  of  marriage  under  cer- 
tain conditions,  and  of  the  inevitable  effect  upon  a  woman's 
character.  There  is  never  a  point  where  the  author  swerves 
from  absolute  truth.  The  most  remarkable  novel  that  has 
come  to  our  desk  for  many  a  long  day.  —New  York  Times. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBUSHEBS,  BOSTON 
At  all  Booksdleri 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  043  726     9 


